


Yearning

by RenkonNairu



Category: DCU (Comics), Earth-16, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Frustration, Hesitation, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Sexual Frustration, Slash, Tragedy, age gap, combination of different show canons, soul mates, stinted romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 2<br/>For three years, Conner waits for Tim to grow-up enough... Then he dies. -SLASH-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fourteen

The first time Superboy met the new Robin he had not exactly been in the best of sorts to begin with.

His break-up with M'gann was still fresh and the fact that she had already moved on with another man just confirmed a suspicion that she never really loved him to begin with. It hurt. So, he spent a great deal of time in seclusion, away from the rest of the Team in private training sessions, the gym door locked from the inside. Or out and away from the Cave completely. At the farm doing chores for Ma and Pa or in Metropolis bothering Clark and Lois and just generally making a nuisance of himself (as Lois informed him was every younger brother's right and privilege).

It was coming back from one of these jaunts away from the Cave that they met.

Nightwing did mention that he and Batman were thinking of integrating the newest of the Robins into the Team. But the bats had their reservations about the idea after what happened to the last Robin. Poor kid. Nobody deserved the fate he got. Slowly beaten to death with a crowbar while your tormentor laughed on in hysterics. Conner had been one of the first on the scene, along with Batgirl and Wally (that had been before he lost his stomach for the job, maybe that was why he lost his stomach for the job). It was not a pretty sight. So, the Superboy completely understood their hesitation in introducing the third Robin to the Team.

He hadn't realized they'd finally made a decision.

The gold light of the zetta-transporter faded from around him, leaving a faint tingling feeling on his skin that slowly dissipated as he stepped out of the tube. And right there. Standing directly in front of him. With Gar, La'gaan, M'gann and Mal crowding. Was the new Robin.

He couldn't have been much younger than thirteen, but Robins were always small for their age, he was more likely fourteen or fifteen. Dark haired, like they all were. He wore a similar red and black costume to his two predecessors but with longer sleeves tucked carefully into his gloves. Hair combed back and out of his face gave him an almost strict 'no nonsense' look that didn't seem to fit on a Robin. Nightwing had always been a bit of an impish little troll when he was Robin and the other one... Conner didn't want to use the word 'punk' because Ma taught him that it was wrong to speak ill of the dead. But the kid certainly had not been a 'no nonsense' kind of guy. It was clear, just by looking at him, that this Robin would be different.

Then the boy turned to look at him and Conner's whole world did a funny little... tilt.

His senses were filled with by the young Boy Wonder. The scent of his shampoo and deodorant filled his nostrils, mingled with the cents of kevlar and leather from his uniform, flash powered and magnesium from his belt, and a natural body odor of fresh perspiration and spice.

For a moment he wondered if this was what vertigo felt like for normal people. It was like the bottom had suddenly fallen out of his stomach and the only thing keeping him from falling after it was the critical stare of the new Robin. He couldn't see the boy's eyes through the whited-out slits of his domino mask, but Conner knew that their gazes were locked and for one brief moment he imagined something significant passed between them.

It was completely ridiculous, of course.

Significant sparks between complete strangers upon first meetings didn't actually happen outside of the movies. And chick book. And porn. But not in the real world. He was just imagining things. He was probably over-tired. Trying to avoid M'gann and La'gaan's cooing and mooning seemed like a full-time job and was both emotionally and mentally draining. That was it. He was just mentally drained and imagining things.

Then, Robin spoke. "You must be Superboy."

That voice. That adolescent voice with just the slightest of cracks to it, hinting at the voice he would have when he reached manhood... It was one of the most pleasant things Conner had ever heard. (And considering just how sensitive his hearing really was, he had heard a great deal with which to compare it to.) For a second time within the space of three minuets, the Superboy found himself off balance. So much so that he barely managed to croak out a response.

"Tha- ahm. That's what the computer says."

Robin smiled in what almost looked like approval. Thin pink lips parting to reveal very strait and well brushed white teeth. "That's very true. You're a lot cleverer than Nightwing lead me to believe."

Conner found himself fighting the urge to blush. It was nice being complemented. And he got complements so rarely too. Add that to the fact that it was coming from a bat, the bats dealt them out so rarely and almost never on intelligence. (God forbid anyone ever be smarter than a member of the bat-clan.) And, sure, he didn't really get what he said that merited said complement. But that didn't matter. Not one bit.

The Superboy instantly decided that he liked this Robin very much.

"Maybe we can train together some time." The little bird suggested. "I need more practice fighting an opponent stronger than me anyway."

"Uh, sure." Conner found the words of agreement poring out of his mouth before his brain had even consciously thought of them. "Whenever you want."

...

It was during training with the new Robin that Conner realized something was up.

It wasn't the fact that Robin was more skilled than he originally let on and that he could use the demi-kryptonian's own body-weight against him as easily as Canary had back when he was still a completely green rookie who didn't know anything. Or the fact that he was light on his feet and fast like a freak (or, at least, as fast as a person could be without being a meta). Or just the general fact that Robin didn't actually need practice fighting stronger opponents. No. The thing that made Conner realize something was different about training with Robin was that it felt to goddamn much like foreplay!

He told himself it was just his imagination. Because he seemed to have become hyper-aware of this Robin. He'd never been so aware of any of his other Teammates before -not even M'gann. So, of course, he would pick up on the quickened heartbeat and breathing, smell the fresh sweat that mingled with that tantalizing natural odor of spice. These were all normal things that happened to humans when they exerted themselves physically. Conner was just getting excited over nothing.

But, at the same time, he had dated M'gann for four years. Conner liked to think that he knew a lot about foreplay. And what came after it. And this... this had that same kind of playful and suggestive feel to it.

It was in that lazy, cocky, almost teasing smile the Boy Wonder flashed whenever he used the demi-kryptonian's own body weight and momentum to throw him. Or how he would calmly and softly whisper, "Do you submit?" when he pinned the Superboy to the training room floor.

"Have you got kryptonite?"

"Not on me."

"Then no." And the Superboy threw the little Robin off himself and then they were grappling again and it was the most fun Conner had had in a very long time. At their first meeting he decided he liked the new Robin, now the demi-kryptonian was growing to like him even more, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that...

On the one hand, he did just get out of a rather long relationship. But his ex had already moved on, so it should be alright if he did, right? But then, they were both guys and... and, well, he lived in Kansas. Nuff said. But then, it wasn't really anyone else's business, now was it? But, the biggest argument against him asking the little bird on a date wasn't his still relatively fresh break-up, or possible homophobia in a bible-thumping state like Kansas. No. It was his age. Robin was only fourteen, and Conner was... well, technically he was five. But he looked sixteen and was supposed to be twenty-one (according to his college transcripts). So, really his age was up in the air. But Robin was still fourteen and no matter how you sliced it that was just to young.

...

Was he jealous of the camaraderie that formed between Gamma Squad? Yes.

If they only ever interacted with one another on missions and during mandatory training, Conner would not have minded all that much. But since Blue Beetle, Lagoon Boy and his Robin were Teamed-up together so often, the three of them had also taken to practicing drills in their spare time. If it was any other Squad, with any other Robin, the Superboy probably wouldn't have cared. If he did have an opinion it would have been approval that they were so dedicated to the Team and the Mission.

But this Squad didn't have just any Robin, they had his Robin.

Conner would find himself pulling up holo-screens and patching into the security feeds to watch them train. His Robin was a thing of beauty in motion. Not nearly as graceful or acrobatic as Nightwing had been, but certainly far more polished than the late second Robin. His little bird...

"Oh, Kon, you're not spying on La'gaan again, are you?"

The Superboy nearly jumped out of his skin when Nightwing came up behind him. He closed the holo-screen reflexively before turning to face the Team leader. It wouldn't do for Nightwing -for his Robin's 'older brother'- to learn who he'd really been spying on. Robin was to young. Nightwing would disapprove. "I was just wondering what M'gann sees in that fish-stick."

But in all honesty, he had stopped caring about M'gann and La'gaan.

...

Showering after missions was hell.

Conner could not remember ever suffering through such a mingling of frustration and embarrassment. He turned the cold water all the way up and the hot water all the way off and tried to tune out the voices of the other guys and wished desperately that he wasn't so goddamn invulnerable that the cold shower might actually have some effect on him!

Two shower-heads down from him, Robin and Beast Boy were splashing each other, laughing and carrying on like it was the most natural thing in the world. Conner tried to ignore them. Kept his body turned to avoid seeing them -seeing Robin wearing nothing but that domino mask, soap suds, and a smile- and so they couldn't see his... frustration. Tried to shut them out of his ears, shut out the sound of his little bird's laughing reprimands to "Cut it out, Gar!"

Damn it! He wanted to hear that voice laughing and giggling because of him! Not because of the little changling. Conner could just imagine it. Not a splash fight, that ran the risk of his little bird slipping and injuring himself, and the Superboy did not want that. But another setting. Maybe in the privacy of a bedroom. With the little Robin pinned to the bed wearing nothing -not even his mask or sunglasses, nothing preventing Conner from seeing his face. And he would tickle him mercilessly. He had always enjoyed tickling M'gann. And Robin would giggle, and squeal, and moan, "Kon... stop..."

Damn it all to heck! This shower was not cold enough!

"Will you two quit horsing around!" He snapped at them in his frustration. "One of you is gonna slip and die and I am not cleaning it up!"

"Sorry, Conner."

"Sorry, Superboy."

Gar turned his shower-head off and shook himself rather like a dog, spraying water in every which direction. Before leaving the shower-room he glared at Conner for a moment and said, "Ya know, you've been kinda snappy ever since sis started seeing that other guy. If it bothers you that much, you should just get back together with her. I liked you better anyway."

Beast Boy left. Robin hung back.

"Its not really Miss Martian and Lagoon Boy that have you so bothered, is it?"

Damn smart little bird! Of course his Robin would be smart, all the bat-clan were smart. But his Robin seemed... more so. In the months since he joined the Team, Conner had learned that before he became Robin, he was able to figure out Batman and the first two Robins' secret identities just from newspaper articles and photographs. He was a brilliant little bastard! His Robin.

Did he already know Conner's secret? Did he see through the Superboy as easily as he had seen through the Batman?

"My romantic issues aren't anyone's business but my own."

And for some reason, even with that domino mask obscuring the upper half of his face, the little bird looked disappointed by that statement.

...

After a while, Conner began to realize that he could hear Robin's heartbeat no mater where either of them were on Earth.

The healthy rhythm would lull the Superboy to sleep at night, a regular thumping almost in time with his own, beating all the way from Gotham. The sound would greet him in the mornings, the first thing he heard when he woke-up. Before the clinking of cowbells in the barn as they stood in their stalls anxious to be milked. Before he heard the wind rustling over the rows of corn, already knee high. Before the sound of Ma frying bacon in the kitchen. There was the sound of Robin's heartbeat in another city almost four states away.

He became so accustomed to that heart, he could recognize the slightest change in its rhythm and know what his Robin was doing. The quickened pace of physical exertion meant he was either out on patrol or else training. The slightly agitated ba-bump of nerves or anxiety meant he was taking a test he hadn't studied for or else was working on a rather perplexing case for Batman. The slow, even pace of sleep told the Superboy when he was sleeping in after a late night out. And when that heartbeat suddenly spiked with the quick and eratic pace of panic, Conner knew his Robin was in trouble.

His Robin was not one easily given to panic and hysterics.

Before the Superboy was consciously aware of it he'd leapt from his bedroom window -still in his pajamas- and was leaping across the fields to the old shed on the edge of the Kent property that hid the zetta-tube. Conner was already in Gotham by the time his conscious mind finally caught up with the rest of him. Batman wasn't exactly keen on the idea of metas in his city. Clark he tolerated because they were friends. But that tolerance did not extend to Conner.

None of that mattered at the moment, however. Because his Robin was in trouble.

Following the sound of that panic-stricken pulse, and driven by visions of the late second Robin, the Superboy found himself landing on the roof of an abandoned warehouse by the Finger River docks in Low Town. Not a nice neighborhood. Why had Nightwing and Batman let the new Robin come here alone and without back-up? Or had there been back-up and they were already taken down?

The Superboy didn't take the time to think. He just acted.

Barefoot, wearing plaid PJ pants and an old Smallville Crows T-shirt, he found the roof-access door and pull it off its hinges. Making more noise than any self-respecting member of a 'covert ops' outfit should ever make. But he didn't care -or even notice- his Robin was in danger and that was all that mattered. The whole of his being was focused on that one fact and how he could help his little bird.

The villain was average height. Maybe a hair shorter than Nightwing, a bit younger too, if his voice was anything to go off of, and there was something familiar about that voice, but Conner didn't have the time to place it. Combat boots, black pants, leather jacket and a red mast that covered the whole o his head from chin to cranium. It was the only bit of color on him. His red head. His red... hood. That sounded about right, Red Hood.

He obviously already knew Conner was there. Even if he hadn't yet seen the Superboy, the racket he'd made when he ripped the roof-access door open could not have gone unnoticed.

"I expected better from you, Bruce." Robin's captor called to the warehouse. "Or are you already lousing your touch, old man?"

Bruce? Who in the world was 'Bruce'?

It didn't matter. Conner had never seen this guy before, he had no idea who he was or what his motivations were. There was no point in trying to decipher it crazy psycho-babel speeches. Who wanted to listen to insane psycho-babel anyway?

Superboy slunk behind a pile of empty boxes, stacked tall and wide. An almost perfect hiding place. He scanned the area for Robin and found his little bird tied to a chair, the whited-out eyes of his domino mask wide with concern, trying to take in and process every detail of the scene. Glancing all around him, searching for a rescue in the form of Batman, Nightwing, or Batgirl, but afraid to take his eyes off the red hooded villain.

"Probably the GCPD." Robin suggested. Presumably for no other reason than in an effort to distract his captor. He might be scared, but Superboy's Robin was not witless. "You and I both know that no Bat would ever make so much noise."

"Shut up!" Snapped the Red Hood, and he gave Robin a hard SMACK across the face that made Superboy wince in sympathy for his little bird. No one treated his Robin that way. Nightwing, fine. He was the Hostage Wonder, after all. Batgirl, she could take care of herself. Batman, nobody smacked Batman is he wanted to keep his hand. And nobody smack Superboy's Robin if they wanted to keep their arms in their sockets. "You don't get to talk! You're nothing but a replacement!-"

If he was going to say more, he didn't get a chance to, because that was the moment when Conner jumped out of his hiding place at the villain. If he was surprised, it didn't show in his movements. The Red Hood leaned right, took hold of the Superboy's extended arm, twisted his own body and used the demi-kryptonian's own momentum to propel the would-be rescuer over his head and away from him. A strain-line Judo toss. Almost identical to the move that Black Canary taught him -that Black Canary taught every member of the Team.

Of course, that didn't mean anything. Anyone can lear Judo with enough discipline.

"Supey? Of all the rescuers I thought the old ghoul would send, you are not the one I expected."

Conner blinked as he climbed to his feet. "Do I know you?"

"I should think so. You were always getting on my case about smoking in the Cave."

And the Superboy's eyes went wide. That was why his voice sounded so familiar. He was... but he couldn't be! "You're supposed to be dead!"

There conversation could have gone on, but it was cut dramatically short at that very moment by three dark figures dropping down around them, capes swishing dramatically. It was the Batman that took down the Red Hood, the man claiming to be the late Robin resurrected. One arm wrapping under the man's chin, forcing his head up, exposing his neck to the needle of a syringe the Dark Knight held ready in his hand. A sedative. The Red Hood went limp in his arms, unconscious but unharmed.

Batgirl knocked Conner's feet out from under him and pinned him to the ground before she registered who he actually was. "Superboy? What are you doing here?"

And Nightwing went to Robin. Knelt in front of the Boy Wonder to untie his bindings and check for injuries.

Conner was furious at himself for being so very inept. He was glad that his Robin was safe and among friends again, but... He had wanted to be his little bird's rescuer.

Batgirl offered him a hand up which Conner promptly ignored, climbing to his feet on his own and crossing the space between them to Nightwing and his Robin.

"What are you doing here, Supey?" Asked Nightwing, echoing Batgirl's question from just a few moments ago. "Interesting new uniform. I had no idea plaid was back in season."

Robin was on his feet now, waving Nightwing off and standing on his own. He gazed up at the Superboy with a mixture of confusion and appreciation. "He was here to help me." he said. "He kept the guy busy, giving you guys time to get here."

Okay, so maybe, in his Robin's eyes at least, Conner was a hero. And that was all he wanted, really.

...

It was a few weeks later that Superboy and Robin finally found a moment alone to talk about the incident.

Robin cornered him in the corridor of the Team's new base. Pinned him to a wall, actually, before muttering a quick, "Come with me." and pulled him into an empty room. The little bird locked the door behind them before rounding on the Superboy.

"I appreciate your ill-conceived rescue attempt." He began, sounding far older than just his fourteen years. "But I need to know how much you heard."

"What do you mean?" And Conner was honestly and truly confused.

"That guy..." Explained the little bird, "He was the Robin before me. Don't ask me how he's still alive, its a long story. But he talked a lot before we heard your clumsy entrance. I need to know how much of Batman's secrets you know now."

Oh. This was about Batman. Truth be told, Conner hand't really been listening to anything but Robin's heartbeat. If the Red Hood had been speaking -ranting- the Superboy had not heard it. So, he could say with total and complete honesty, "I wasn't paying attention. I still only know what I knew about Batman when Cadmus programed me. Nothing new."

"Nothing new..." And Robin looking equal parts relived and disappointed about that. Conner understood the relief. His mentor's secrets, and by extension the rest of the bat-clan's secrets, were still safe. So... why the disappointment?

"Although..." Continued the demi-kryptonian, "Before I showed myself, and he still thought I was Batman, he called me 'Bruce'. Who's Bruce?"

There was a beat of silence between them in which the only sound in the room was the nervous beat of Robin's heart.

Then, "I told you when we first met that you're a lot cleverer than Nightwing made you out to be. Prove me right."

...

Conner spent some time reflecting on that conversation.

Was Robin trying to break Batman's near-ironclad gag-order against sharing identities without actually breaking it? Did Robin want him to know Batman's identity -and by extension his own? Or did his clever little bird realize that after Conner heard Batman's name, it was only a mater of time until the demi-kryptonian figured it out.

In all honesty, the name 'Bruce' was meaningless to him without context. It wasn't exactly a common name, but it wasn't exactly uncommon either. There were at least two Bruces in attendance at Happy Harbor high when he'd still been there. One in the class just above his and the other in the freshmen class the year he graduated. Assuming the name was just as common in Gotham as it was in Happy Harbor, then really, Robin had nothing to be worried about. In fact, the name was probably even more common in Gotham due to it also being the name of one of the city's most prominent citizens -Bruce Wayne.

Then it hit the Superboy like a collapsing eighty-foot skyscraper.

Bruce Wayne.

Batman was a normal human with no powers but an almost never-ending supply of high-tech gadgets at his disposal. Technology like that cost money. Bruce Wayne had money. Batman was a master of multiple forms of combat. Bruce Wayne had the means and resources to travel all around the world searching for the foremost masters of each discipline. Could Batman be Bruce Wayne?

But what would the motivation be?

Come on, Supey. Robin managed to figure this out all on his own with no prompting from just newspaper articles and photographs. Newspapers... If some incredible life-altering event had happened to the multibillionaire philanthropist, something big enough to prompt him to become a masked avenger in the night, it would most definitely have made the news. That meant it could probably be found in the daily Planet's archive database. Now, what was Clark's password again... Ah, that's right.

It took the demi-kryptonian only a moment to log-on by remote under Clark Kent's username. He should really stop using the day he came to Earth (his birthday, for all intents and purposes) as his password. After logging on, it took him only a moment more to find an article entitled "WAYNE FAMILY MURDERED!: Young Son Only Survivor". Conner scanned the article briefly. He had witnessed it, his own parents' murder. Yes. That could certainly prompt Someone like Bruce Wayne to become something like Batman.

So, supposing then that Batman was Bruce Wayne, who were Nightwing, Robin and Batgirl?

Over the past ten years, Bruce Wayne had taken in two foster children. The first one was probably Nightwing, the original Robin -Richard Grayson. That meant that the second Robin, the one who dies and, apparently, came back to life would be Jason Todd. But then... Who were Batgirl and his Robin?

...

"I think I have it figured out." He told the little bird one day. "Some of it, anyway."

His Robin's fingers had been practically flying over his computer's keyboard, either writing code or breaking code, neither would have surprised the Sueprboy. But at the demi-kryptonian's words, his hands stilled. "Oh?"

"I'm not as good a detective as you are -or any Bat for that matter. But, like you said, I'm cleverer than they think I am, so... I think I got it."

"And what have you got?"

"I think-" Here, Conner paused, nervous. This was a JLA base, it belonged to the Team, but the security and software belonged to the League, that means that Batman had near unlimited access to it. The walls had eyes and ears and those eyes and ears belonged to the Bat. The Superboy lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper, bending down low so that his lips nearly brushed the top of Robin's ear. "I think... Batman might be Bruce Wayne. And if he is, then Nightwing is Richard Grayson and the other Robin was Jason Todd. But..."

"But...?" Robin pressed.

"But I have no idea who you are." Conner finished. And he was disappointed in himself because of it. The other members of the bat-clan, sure it was interesting to know who they were. But Robin... this Robin... his Robin... He was the one he wanted to know about. He was the one Conner wanted to... He was the one Conner wanted.

Robin sighed in disappointment. "I expected more from you."

Conner didn't know what to say to that. Robin wanted him to try and figure out his identity? Why?

The little bird closed the window he'd been working on and slid the laptop off his knees. Standing, he turned to face the Superboy and, removing his domino mask said, "Tim. My name is Tim. But you didn't hear it from me. You figured it out on your own. You got that?"

Conner wanted to ask 'Why?'. The question was on the tip of his tongue. But instead what came out was... "Tim, huh. So, Tim, when's your birthday?"

...


	2. Fifteen

Tim turned fifteen in July.

His hair got longer and moppyer, he got a few inches taller, and that adorable crack in his voice softened out a bit, coming closer to the voice he'd have when he reached his full manhood. It sometimes made it difficult for Conner to concentrate on what he was actually saying. The demi-kryptonian would be mesmerized by the sound of that maturing voice, the way those soft lips moved as they formed words, and he wouldn't notice the words themselves, just that his Robin was speaking and how tantalizing the sound was.

Showering after missions became all the more difficult. Tim's shoulders got broader, and while he had always been muscular for his age, his muscles became more... developed. The wide shoulders and narrow hips gave his torso a more 'arrow' shape. An arrow pointing strait down to... Yep! Showering with the rest of the guys on the Team had to stop. Right now. Before someone finally noticed.

Tim was growing up. With each passing day he grew closer and closer to proper male adulthood and with each passing day, Conner found himself more and more attracted to the boy -to the man.

Fifteen was an alright age. But it was still just a hair's breadth to short of the age of legal consent.

In Rhode Island, where the Cave used to be, the age of consent was sixteen. That was nice. Conner could wait for Tim to turn sixteen. It was only one more year after all. But they weren't in Rhode Island anymore. Now the Team's main base was a tower built on an island just off the coast of California, and in California the age of consent was eighteen. Conner was sure he'd go stir-crazy if he had to wait three years instead of just one.

Maybe just stick with sixteen?

After all, he and M'gann got together at sixteen.

Well... Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. He was less than a year, only about four or five months old. She had been forty-eight. But physically, they had both been sixteen. Physically, Conner was still sixteen. So, sixteen was a good age to wait for Tim to reach. Nightwing, and more importantly, Batman might approve of that. Even if they didn't approve, at least Conner wouldn't feel so... icky about it.

And, it had been long enough since his break-up with M'gann to be considered healthy to be moving on. So, he didn't have to worry about that either. After Tim reached an acceptable age, the only thing that could hold them back was the little matter of them both being male.

Conner had already realized and come to terms with the fact that he was, in fact, attracted to the other boy. But then there was the question of whether or not Tim would return his advances. Most people fell somewhere in the middle of the sexuality spectrum, but homosexuality still wasn't exactly the 'norm'. And then, after that, there was still the question of everyone else in their lives. Friends and family.

Pretend, for sake of the argument, Tim returned his affections. Would Batman be okay with his protege dating another man? Would Clark be okay with his clone dating another man? (Clark was from Kansas, after all.) Would either of their mentors object to the point of threatening to disown them if they insisted on pursuing the relationship?

But that fear was still a year away.

Right now, Tim was still only fifteen. So, for now, Conner would wait.

...

They started hanging out together a lot more after the name exchange.

Well, it wasn't so much an 'exchange' seeing as how Tim had known his name, all of his names, since day one. So, the name 'sharing' then. Whatever they ended-up calling it didn't matter. Since then they began hanging out more and more socially. Playing X-Box at the base. Meeting up in Gotham in their civilian personas. Summer barbecues at the farm... Just generally hanging out and having a good time together.

Friends stuff.

Tim's dad and his step-mother were very happy to finally meet one of Tim's friends from his 'youth group'. Conner was very proud of himself and his self-control for not collapsing into a pile of giggles and snorts at the dinner table. Well, a youth group would certainly explain why Tim spent so much time away from home after school and on weekends, and it might explain some of his less severe injuries like sprained wrists and twisted ankles. But what about that time he'd been shot? True, it was just a grazing shot against his lower abdomen, but he was in pain for weeks, his movements hindered. Did they really believe that was a normal 'youth group' injury?

Then again, this was Gotham.

Gun shot wounds probably were normal for Gotham youth groups. Hell, they were probably normal for any Gotham group.

Ma and Pa were also very glad to see members of the Team visiting the farm again.

Once there was a time when the whole Team would come over in the summer for barbecues. Or just before Fall for the Harvest Festival -the biggest event in Smallville short of Christmas. But then the second Robin died, Wally and Artemis retired, Tula died, Kaldur went rouge (but did actually go rouge), and Zatanna and Raquel joined the League. The old members left or pasted away and the new members didn't know the Kents or weren't interested in quaint country hoop-las. M'gann still came over back when they were still together and sometimes they'd bring Gar with them. But after he broke-up with her, members of the Team stopped coming to the farm all together.

Tim kept his sunglasses on the whole time he was at the farm. Even after dark. Even indoors. Ma and Pa didn't mind, they found it a little funny. They shared little anecdotes about when Clark started bringing Batman to the farm, he kept his shades on all the time too. Tim laughed at the fact that Clark had always known Bruce's identity and in the six years Conner had known him, they had never shared.

"'Cours he ain't gonna tell." Pa said. "It ain't Clark's secret to share. Bruce placed great trust in my boy by sharing who he is and in the business you boys are in, trust is something y'all can't live without."

Tim and Conner shared a significant look. That was true.

"Ya know," Ma began, "you two kinda remind me of younger versions of them. A bit. Not completely, mind."

Conner wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Clark and Bruce, Superman and Batman were reputed to be the 'World's Finest Partners'. It was a complement to be sure. But... Conner didn't want to be Tim partner -at least, not his platonic partner, and Clark and Bruce were definitely platonic. Clark had Lois and Bruce had... his Mission? That wasn't the point.

The point was, Conner wanted Tim as a very non-platonic partner.

...

As per Batman's no metas rule, Superboy was not allowed to operate inside of Gotham city limits.

Of course, that didn't mean he actually followed that ban.

In his first year working on the Team, they had all stopped a super-powered robot right in the middle of the Gotham Academy gymnasium. That had been the whole Team, which included four metas. So, while the Dark Knight did have that little rule of his, Conner viewed it as more of a guideline, really.

So, when the demi-kryptonian was flying in to return a book to Tim -a book that he had not read- he couldn't help but stop a couple of muggings, one car chase, and three small-time burglaries. They were small little-nothing crimes -when compared to what he was used to dealing with- but they were enough to draw attention. So, by the time the roof of the Drake's apartment building was in view the Superboy was surprised to find his little bird standing on the edge waiting for him, a reprimanding frown on his face. The whited-out eyes of his domino mask drawn in a dark scowl.

"Hey." He said as cheerfully as he could when he came down from his final jump. The Superboy gave the young Robin the best easy-going smile he possibly could while secretly fearing that Tim somehow already knew he was returning his book without it ever being read.

"Hey." Tim replied flatly, without infraction. Oh. He must be mad.

"Superboy, do you know where you are?"

"Uh, yeah." He nodded.

"And do you know what you were doing here?"

And then it hit him. Right. Batman's ban on meta-heroes using their powers in his town. He might view it as a guideline because of the incident with the Amazo robot six years ago, but recently, the Dark Knight had been cracking down harder on those that broke said rule. ...And their friends. Just last week, Dick was complaining to the Team how Batman had given him a nasty chewing-out because Wally had visited one time when he was in Gotham instead of Bludhaven and -Oh!

"And do you know who takes the heat when you won't sit still long enough for Batman to get at you?" Tim paused only long enough for dramatic effect, but not nearly long enough for the Superboy to actually answer. "The reason you're coming to town. That's who."

"Sorry." Conner said. And he was. He didn't like the idea of putting his Robin at odds with his mentor. "But I'll make it up to you. I promise."

...

Prior to what later became known as the 'Return Book Debacle', Tim and Conner had planned to meet-up for the premier of the latest World's Finest movie. (Tim thought they were hilarious. A blond Batman! It was so difficult to keep his laughter quiet.) But after the Return Book Debacle, that date -ahem, outing- was canceled. That left Conner at home with Ma and Pa, and the latest Smallville gossip.

"So, I heard tell today that Sheriff Parker's boy came out to his Pa that he was sly."

It the demi-kryptonian a moment to two to translate the country slang in the statement, but when he did, he froze. Fork hovering over his plate. Ears perked. Waiting to hear Pa's, or maybe Ma's opinion in the Sheriff's apparently gay son.

"Oh, I had a feelin'." Ma smiled behind her tea cup. "You'd always seem him in the fabric section of the general store helping his Ma match colors for her sewing. I ain't never seen a boy who knew so much about matching pinks."

Pa suppressed a snort behind his hand.

Conner continued to listen. Eyes focused on his plate, not daring to look up and make eye-contact with either of them, yet hanging on their every word.

"Well, poor Sam didn't have an inkling." Pa continued. "Story goes, he was so mad, he kicked the boy right outta the house then and there."

Conner nearly bent his fork. It was only by sheer force of will that the metal didn't buckle and contort in his hand. With forced casualness, he set his fork down next to his plate and asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly could, "What would you have done?"

They looked at him curiously for a moment. Not following.

So, the demi-kryptonian elaborated. "If, say... Clark, for example, came home one day and said he was gay. What would you do?"

That's right. Make Clark the example, not yourself. Distance yourself from the subject in case they react badly.

"Well, now... That does put things in perspective. Don't it." Pa leaned back in his chair thinking.

"Well, I know what I'd do!" Ma did not even hesitate. "I'd ask him who the lucky man was that managed to charm him away from Lois and when he planned to bring him by so I can decided if he's worthy of having my son."

Oh, Ma. How Conner loved you!

"Hm." Pa nodded. "Welp, we've dealt with far stranger things over the years raising that boy. Compared to all that, if he brings home a John instead of a Jane, it don' matter."

Conner could kiss them. But he didn't. He restrained himself and sat content in the knowledge that when Tim turned sixteen, and if he accepted Conner's feelings, Ma and Pa at least would support them. Clark too, probably.

If Ma and Pa each glanced at the demi-kryptonian before sharing a significant glance between them, Conner did not notice.

So then, they just had to worry about the disapproval on Tim's end. Batman, Nightwing... Tim parents? Eh, maybe them too.

Of course, after the Return Book Debacle, Conner still had to make-up with him before anything could happen.

...

Conner did not take the zetta-tube into Gotham.

He waited at the base. He showed-up two, almost three hours early, in fact. They would have to cross paths eventually.

He held one of Ma's pies in his hands. Fresh out of the oven. Still warm. Wrapped in foil to seal in the heat. Ma's pies were the best on the planet. He should know, he and Clark had both tested it. If this didn't say 'I'm sorry I got you in trouble with your mentor.' and charm Tim into forgiving him, then nothing would. He might as well just give up.

Tim was carrying what looked like a pastry box of his own when he zetta'd into the base.

They both paused, Tim looking startled. "Oh! You're here! I didn't think you'd be here so early."

Conner followed his little bird in confusion as he dashed to the kitchen to set his pastry box down on the counter. When the Robin turned back to face him, the demi-kryptonian barely managed to get out, "Tim, I'm sorry about-" Before he found himself being pushed out of the kitchen.

"You weren't supposed to get here so early! Nightwing told you five o' clock. Its three fifteen! Make yourself scarce!"

"But I-" Damn, it was hard to get a word in sometimes. He liked his Robin very much, but sometimes the infuriating little bird was impossible to deal with. "Tim, I'm trying to apologize to you!"

His little bird paused. Looked confused. Cocked his head to the side. "For what? Oh! Breaking Batman's no metas rule. You can make it up to me later. Now get out. Go! Go save a kitten from a tree, or whatever it is you kryptonians do to kill time."

Usually, whenever Conner had some time to kill alone, he usually spent it masturbating.

So, when Tim randomly and abruptly kicked him out of the kitchen, the Superboy went strait to his room at the Tower. After seven years, he had finally graduated out of living in a closet and felt comfortable enough to sleep laying down in a real bed in a real room with space. And that was exactly what he did. He didn't sleep, mind you. Oh no.

Conner stripped off his combat boots, pants, and underwear. Laid down on his bed and thought about Tim.

About that moppy hair that fell over his forehead, those high cheek bones and that perfect mouth with its soft lips. Tim had such a pretty mouth. And those broad shoulders and narrow hips, making an almost arrow shape pointing down to that most intimate of organs. Damn it! Why was he only fifteen!? It was so not fair!

Fist gripping himself tightly, Conner had to bite his bottom lip to keep from groaning out Tim's name. Although Dick assured him there were no security feeds in the bedrooms, he was still a bat and you could only trust half the things he says. Every other wall in the Tower had eyes and ears. Why should the bedrooms be any different just because people changed, and slept, and had sex, and masturbated in them? Everyone on the Team has already seen everyone else on the Team naked at least once. What's a little voyerism between comrades?

But Conner still wasn't ready for anyone else to know of his crush. The first person to know should be Tim himself. So, he bit his lip. Shoved his knuckles in his mouth. Bit down on anything that wouldn't be destroyed by his teeth, to keep from moaning as gasping Tim name when he climaxed.

When it was over, enough time had passed that Conner felt it was safe to venture outside his room once again. He pulled his underwear back up and his pants back on. Laced up his boots and stepped out of his room.

The rest of the Tower was uncommonly quiet. That did not bode well. Usually, when the base was this quiet it meant one of two things, they had been infiltrated and the rest of the Team had already been neutralized, or, one of the bats was planning something devious. The way Tim had reprimanded him for being on base so early and sent him away seemed to support the latter. Damn. He hoped Nightwing wasn't planning another 'surprise drill'. The first (and thus far, only) one had not gone well.

Keeping his ears piqued for any sound that could indicate what in the world was going on, Conner went in search for his little bird.

The first place he checked was the last place he'd seen Tim. The kitchen. But he wasn't there. There was, however, evidence that he'd been there. Frosting smeared on the counter, plates missing from the cupboards, forks missing from the drawers, cups, napkins, and a cake knife. The apple pie he'd brought for Tim was found in the refrigerator, one small piece missing from it. But there was no Tim.

Conner exited the kitchen, sure now that this was some sort of bat-prank. It had something to do with the pastry-box Tim had carried in with him. But aside from that, Conner didn't know what it was. He was not as great a detective as his little bird, or the rest of the bat-clan for that matter.

The next place he checked was Mess. This thing Tim (and possibly the other bats) was planning had something to do with food, so the next logical conclusion was that they could be found in the mess hall. But no. It, like the kitchen, was completely empty. However, unlike the kitchen, there didn't seem to be any signs that his little bird had passed through here. That left the demi-kryptonian perplexed.

He wondered the eerily quiet halls a bit more before Conner decided it was time to be worried.

The Superboy ran through all the possibilities in him mind. Bat-prank gone wrong. Everyone was called for a mission and he missed the briefing. Zetta transporter mishap. Team accidentally transported to alternate time. Team accidentally transported to alternate dimension. Stephanie Meyer wrote a new novel and everyone dropped dead!

Then, something red and white and fast all over wizzed past him, skidded to a halt, doubled back, then stopped in front of him.

"Where have you been!?" Demanded the Impulse impatiently. "They're all waiting for you and Robin thinks you stood him up!"

"Wha-?" The Superboy didn't even have time to get his question out before he was being dragged down the corridor by the time-displaced speedster.

It wasn't yet spring, but the way the weather was, you wouldn't know it. Outside the run was shining and the sky was clear. There was a cold breeze coming in from the sea, but then that was to be expected on their little off-shore island. Those gathered outside in the Tower's courtyard only needed light jackets.

Conner stumbled at the sudden deceleration and fell flat on his face in the least dignified way possible.

"I found him!" Bart announced proudly.

The already embarrassed Superboy climbed to his feet, trying to avoid eye-contact with everyone there and dusting off his everything. "What's going on, guys?"

"Really?" He heard Tim's voice ask and Conner looked up to see him in civies, his sunglasses in place over his eyes, standing behind what looked suspiciously like... a birthday cake? "You mean you haven't already figured it out? Come on, clone boy, I used to think you were smart."

Oh crap! Had he forgotten someone's birthday!? Not cool. Let's see... Bart, Tim, Dick, Wally, Cassie, Karen, Mal... nope. M'gann, La'gaan, Gar, Jaime, Rae... no... Barbara wasn't here. Kory, Victor, Virgil? Not theirs either... Crap. He was gonna have to ask. Damn it! "So... what are we celebrating?"

Some people groaned. Others laughed. Dick collected twenty dollars from Wally. Then it hit him. Right.

March twenty-first.

"Oh." He said, finally recognizing the significance of the seven candles on the cake. Everyone else on the Team was in the double digets. "Right. Thanks everyone."

"Thank Robin." Nightwing jabbed a thumb at Tim. "He's the one that set all this up."

The slight coloring of the little bird's cheeks was so adorable. Conner wanted to pull him out from behind that table and kiss that blush until it turned a deeper red. But he didn't. He managed to restrain himself.

"I just thought we should start celebrating your creation day again." Explained his little Robin, looking self conscious. "So, I just threw something together. Ya know, like how Miss Martian used to do for you."

Like how M'gann used to do for him. Oh, Tim...

...


	3. Sixteen

July rolled around again and this time it would be Tim's sixteenth birthday.

This was it. He was going to do it! Conner was going to confess to his beloved little Robin. Expose his three-year-long crush. Lay his feelings bear. Open up all his fears and misgivings, throw himself down on his knees and render himself completely vulnerable and at the mercy of Tim's response.

He was a bit nervous.

The Superboy bought a new shirt. Long sleeved, blue, button-up, collared. He wanted to look nice. Respectable, like. He wanted to look like the kind of person Tim would want to say 'yes' to. New shirt, clean jeans, his best -least scuffed- pair of boots. He spent hours ironing his pants and polishing his combat boots.

Fully clothed, Conner then spent several hours more in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, practicing what he would say. Long, drawn out monologues that explained everything in gratuitous detail, short cliff notes confessions that might confuse more than convey, even the cliche and wordless mashing his lips against Tim's face -well, against the mirror, but the mirror was acting as stand-in for Tim's face.

In the end, the demi-kryptonian had to decided that no matter what plan he went with or how much he rehearsed it, nothing would make him feel ready. It was probably best if he just went there and played it by ear. Besides, if he waited any longer, he would be late! And tardiness made a bad impression.

"An' where're you off to lookin' all spiffy?" Pa asked, a knowing smile on his face.

Conner paused, his hand on the doorknob. He still hadn't told them. After that one dinner conversation last year, he was pretty sure they'd be okay with him dating another man, but still... he should at least give them some warning. As nothing more than a common curtesy. The demi-kryptonian took a step back from the door, turning to face them both. They gazed up at him expectantly and Conner had the sudden and insane notion that maybe they already knew.

That was ridiculous, of course!

"Ma, Pa..." He cleared his throat. "I just want you to know that I'm going to ask Robin -Tim- out on a date. On a date-date, like how I used to date M'gann date. Not like a 'just friends' date. Yes, we're both guys. I hope you're okay with this. If you're not, I respect that and I'll have my things out of the house by the end of the month."

Ma laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that statement. "Landsakes! Why would we want you to move out!?"

"What's in your head, boy?" Pa asked.

Conner flushed. Of course they wouldn't really mind. Like they said about Clark, they didn't care if he brought home a John or a Jane. Just so long as Clark was happy. He already knew this. There wasn't any reason to think they'd treat him any differently. "But... Sheriff Parker kicked Keith out of the house when he came out."

"Well, we ain't the Parkers." Pa scoffed. "Just remember to be an honorable gentleman. You treat a woman like a person, then a princess, then a goddess, then a person again. You don't treat your man any different. And you ask a girl's Pa for permission before you date her, I expect you to do the same for Tim's Pa."

Oh, shit! That was something he hadn't thought of!

Not asking Jack Drake for permission to date his son, but rather, asking Batman for permission to date his Robin! Crap. Crap. Crap! And he worried about that too. Last year around this same time he had wondered about it. But back then it was a year away and so he'd put it out of his mind. Bad move, apparently. He'd forgotten about it completely.

And Batman kept kryptonite.

Oh, he was so going to die if he confessed to Tim tonight and things went the way he wanted.

...

Batman wasn't at the Team's birthday party for Robin.

The Dark Knight did not make it a regular habit to attend the Team's social functions. And there were so many of them now that there was at least one birthday party each month. If he attended them all, he'd never get any Dark Knighting done in Gotham. So, no spooky doom and gloom mentor lurking about the crowd and throwing a damper on the party.

But that did throw a bit of a wrench into Conner's personal plans.

Damn it all. Damn it all to heck!

And Tim looked so good, too!

Tall and lean. He was almost the same height as Conner now. They were almost on the same eye-level and that was awesome! Lean and muscular. He had filled out nicely. All right angles and sharp lines. A cutting figure in his casual kaki shorts and red polo shirt. Mmm! Those shorts that went down to just below his knees, hiding most of his legs but leaving his firm and well-toned calves exposed. That polo shirt that displayed his muscular forearms. The collar with both buttons undone revealing the hollow of his throat and just a hint of collar bones.

God! Conner just wanted to go over to him and start kissing that collar bone. Starting at the hollow of his throat and working his way up to where the shoulder met the neck. Then up the neck to his earlobe where the demi-kryptonian would pause to nibble. Oh, this was torture!

Couldn't he just confess his feelings now and worry about Batman later?

He could... it would be the sweetest suicide ever.

"You've been pretty quiet all night." Tim commented as he flopped down on the couch next to him. A glass of Martinelli's in one hand, a plate of cake in the other. "You look like you lost your favorite pair of boots."

"What? No!" Conner did not place Tim on the same level as his boots! Tim was at lest a shirt. Bad joke. Oh, he shouldn't do that, not even in his own head. He was nervous. Like, really nervous. The demi-kryptonian reached out and pulled the plate and glass out of his Robin's hands and placed them on the coffee table. "Listen... there's something I need to tell you. I... I don't know how to say this. I've never really been very good at this sort of thing, but... Tim, I... I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

Damn him! He was such a pussy!

Three years he waited for Tim to grow up to an acceptable age to ask him out and now it was here and he was to chicken-shit to actually go through with it. Pussy. Coward. Conner told himself it was because he was waiting until he could ask Batman for permission. That was it. He was gonna do the honorable thing and ask for his mentor's permission before he asked Tim out. He was being a gentleman. Old school and respectable like.

"Oh." Tim said. "Well, ya know, you didn't have to get me anything. Just your company is enough. Although..."

"Yeah?" Conner asked.

Tim shook his head. "Nothing. Its not fair of me to ask."

And what the hell was that supposed to mean?

...

Conner waited one week to the day after Tim's sixteenth birthday before he zetta'd to Gotham. He didn't want to appear to eager, but he didn't want to wait to long either.

He knew Batman was Bruce Wayne, but he didn't leap across town to Wayne Manor. In fact, he didn't leap at all. No powers. He was not going to use any of his powers while within Gotham city limits. He didn't want to get Tim in trouble again and he didn't want to anger the Dark Knight before he got a chance to ask his permission. He did, however, find a relatively high place above the normal street noise where he could focus his hearing in an effort to locate the Caped Crusader.

The normal noise of the city intensified for a moment as he turned the volume up. Not just the sounds of cars running over the streets, horns honking, tires screeching, people shouting, car alarms, police sirens, ambulance sirens... ah, nightly traffic in Gotham. But there was more than just street noise. Couples quarreling in their homes, neighbors shouting at one another, TVs, radios, babies crying, gun fire, cats hissing, dogs barking, opossums knocking over trash cans, the homeless and displaced conversing with themselves on matters of the cosmos... If he and Tim ever decided to live together, he did not want to settle in Gotham.

Conner sifted out all the other sounds like Clark taught him. The normal ambient noise of Gotham City becoming muted and indistinct and he searched for what he was looking for -an indication of the Batman's location.

There was Tim's heart beat. It was always there, no matter how loud the rest of the world was, no matter what else he sifted out, dampened or muted. Tim's pulse was always strong and present in his ears. It was like a part of himself now. Tim's heart and breathing. But Tim wasn't who he was looking for, not tonight, and he wasn't with who he was looking for either. Tim was alone, responding to what sounded like a home invasion.

The Dark Knight was on the other side of town, either in or near what sounded like a night club. Not the loud, bouncy kind with strobe lights, and heavy base to blow your eardrums out, the kind where speed was passed around like dinner mints, sex in the bathrooms and minors with fake IDs. No. The place where Batman was sounded more like a lounge. Soft but lively music, possibly a cover of a Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra song. It had a very 'Rat Pack' flavor to it, but the Superboy didn't recognize it.

He followed the sound of Batman's pulse and breathing -walking, not leaping. No powers inside Gotham.

Whatever the case was, it was over by the time the Superboy got there. The GCPD was shoving the Penguin inside the back of a squad car and pulling away.

Darn, that mean that Batman was probably already gone.

Conner tweaked his hearing again, to filter through all the noise around him and find the Caped Crusader again. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the man right behind him. The demi-kryptonian wasn't proud, but he was still man enough to admit that he might have squeaked a little bit. Okay, he might have squealed like a little bitch. But you would two if the goddamn Batman suddenly dropped down behind you in a dark ally, cape swooshing and and eyes glaring.

"Took you long enough." Growled Gotham's dark protector. "Zetta feeds alerted me to your arrival over an hour ago. What, did you crawl here?"

Pretty nearly. Walking like a normal, powerless, person was so slow! "I was trying not to use my powers." He said. "Since you don't like metas in your town."

The Batman did not smile. While in costume, that was just one expression his face did not form. Clark sometimes liked to joke that the cowl forced his mouth down into a natural frown. However, at the Superboy's statement, the Caped Crusader's mouth did straiten into a non-emotive line that might have conveyed approval. "You're learning."

"Yes, sir." God! Why did Tim's mentor have to be so freaking scary!? Conner didn't remember Batman being this terrifying back when Dick was Robin.

"Let's not talk here." And with that, his grappling gun was already in his hand and firing towards the rooftops.

Conner watched him propel himself into the sky before arching back down, firing again and swinging away. He lowered his eyes to the fire-escape ladder affixed to one of the buildings that made up the ally in which he stood. Following Batman with no powers and none of those fancy grappling guns of his own. This was gonna be a long night. It was a lot of effort just to ask one question.

Then his comm link buzzed in his ear.

"This is Superboy. Go ahead."

"You have my permission to keep up." Came the Bat's gruff baritone.

Thank you, for small favors! The Superboy was airborne within a moment. Leaping the first building in a single bound, spotting the Batman in the shadows before arching back down, watching him fire another grapple, and then landing. Leaping again, following the course the Caped Crusader set for him. They did not stop moving until they were on a high rooftop that the Dark Knight deemed safe to discuss sensitive matters.

"You didn't go strait for Robin upon your arrival." It was not a question, it was a statement. "You're here to see me. Why?"

"I, uh, I have a question for you."

"I have no idea what to get Superman for his birthday either." Said the Batman without pause. "I usually give him cash."

"What?" Conner blinked at the older man in confusion.

"The only things that you and I have in common are the Team and Superman." The World's Greatest Detective elaborated. "Any Team business you have can be discussed over the comm. You would not need to make a trip all the way here for that. However, all comm calls are recorded and saved to an archive on Watchtower's mainframe. Superman has access to these files, so if there was something you wanted to discuss without him knowing, it would have to be done in person. Hence the reason for your visit. The birthday thing was just a shot in the dark."

Superboy just stared at him. "Our comm calls are recorded?"

Note to Self: No phone sex over the JLA comms. Ever!

This must be a new thing they just started. It couldn't have always been in affect. Not back when he was dating M'gann. If it was, then the whole League would have heard... Oh, dear lord!

"Why are you here, Superboy?" Asked the Dark Knight.

"You forgot about Tim." Answered the demi-kryptonian. "We only have three things in common, the Team, Superman, and Tim. I, uh... I was wondering... Ya see, Pa taught me how to be a country gentleman. The thing with country gentleman with that, uh... Its the right and honorable thing for a man to announce his intentions to a girl's father before... uh..."

Batman frowned. Conner wasn't making any sense. None of that had anything to do with Robin.

"What I mean is... Tim! I want Tim. I mean! I want to date Tim. I don't want him, like, want to own him. No. He's a person, not property. But, Pa says I gotta ask permission, like asking a girl's father. Except you're a lot scarier- uh, a bigger influence in his life than Mr. Drake is and, um... I don't want to take him away from the Mission or anything. I just... like him. A lot."

The Dark Knight was silent a long while. Processing this information.

The silence dragged on so long, Conner began to fear he might have broken the Caped Crusader.

Then, "Interesting..." Muttered the Batman, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You had a very long heterosexual relationship with Miss Martian before and now you're expression homosexual interest in Robin. But then, considering both you and Miss Martian's alien heritage, your relationship could also be classified as 'pansexual'. Interesting."

"Um, excuse me?" Okay, granted, he had been the one to open this up by asking his permission to date Tim. But it was just a little creepy that Batman was giving such deep thought to his sexual orientation. And by 'just a little' Conner mean 'a butt-fuck lot'! Whatever the reason for the Dark Knight's musings, the demi-kryptonian decided that he did not want to know. "Anyway, about Tim."

"Robin is his own person." The Caped Crusader informed him. "Its not business of mine what company he chooses to keep outside of uniform."

Conner was so elated he could have flown!

"But," continued Gotham's dark avenger, "if you -in any way, shape, or form- hurt that boy, I swear on my parents graves, I will make you the exception to The Rule. Do we understand each other?"

The Superboy swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yes, sir."

...

Two things happened one evening in quick succession of each other.

First, Tim's heart beat spiked with anxiety. Conner did not rush to his side because Batman did not like metas in his town. But he did call Dick. The Nightwing said very little and tried to kicked the Superboy off the phone. Finally just hanging up and ignoring his two other calls.

Then the Team was called in for a mission.

Conner was the first to arrive. He watched the zetta transporters like a starved wolf watches a heard of deer. Noting each member of the Team as they arrived and waiting for Tim to turn up. But the Boy Wonder never came. Nightwing started the briefing. Superboy payed only half attention. Something about leading the Beta Squad. Flanking maneuver. Or some such.

The moment the mission briefing was over, before everyone boarded their various choices of transport and were deployed, Conner pulled Dick to the side and hissed in his ear, "Where is Tim? I felt his pulse spike earlier. Is he okay? Does this mission have anything to do with him? What didn't you tell the rest of the Team?"

Because, he had learned from experience that Nightwing often held back critical information about friends and Teammates in dangerous situations.

"Tim is fine." Dick assured him. "No, this mission has nothing to do with him. He's not here because there was- something else he had to take care of. A family problem. Not any of the Team's business."

Not a bat-family problem because then Nightwing wouldn't be here either. The job of briefing and deploying the Team would have been delegated to him, Wally, or M'gann -the three other veterans. So, if it wasn't a bat-clan issue Tim was dealing with, that meant it was a real family issue -his civilian family. Jack Drake and Dana Winters.

...

Conner didn't see Tim for several weeks after that.

In fact, no one outside of Gotham saw Robin for several weeks after that.

He knew Tim was still alive. He could still hear his heart beat. That sad, mournful, rhythm. Something had happened. Something big! But no one would tell him what it was. No one in the bat-clan talked. That was nothing new. But Clark -whom seemed to know- wasn't sharing anything either.

Finally, the Superboy decided to take matters into his own hands. He zetta'd to Gotham and, not giving a rat's ass if he pissed off the Dark Knight or not, leapt all the way to the Drakes' apartment. But the place was empty. Well, not 'empty'. It was full of moving boxes. Some of the furniture was gone, other pieces were wrapped in movers blankets and tape. But there were no people there. He tried Tim's school, but couldn't find him on the campus and since he wasn't exactly on Tim's contact list, the office turned him away almost immediately.

Not at home. Not at school. That left the Batcave.

He was almost at the edge of the Wayne family property when he began to feel it. A slight burning on his skin, a weakening of his limbs, shortness of breath, light-headedness -kryptonite. When the Superboy came down from his jump he hit the ground hard, making a large crater. He hadn't made a crater in years. His knees buckled under him and Conner quickly found himself with a face full of dirt. A dark figure looming over him.

"Go home." Said the Bamtman.

"Not- ugh -not until I know Tim's- Tim's okay!" He managed to groan out, each word taking more effort to form than it should have.

"Tim is... coping." Said Bruce. "Right now he wants his space. Now is not the time for your romantic overtures."

"I'm not- ugn -Could you- -put that- that away? Please!"

The green glow in Batman's hand disappeared inside a small leaded box and the effects seemed to vanish almost immediately. Conner sat up, but he did not try to stand. He glared up at the Dark Knight.

"I'm not here to try and woo Tim!" He said. "I wanna know what's going on! What happened? It looks like they're moving from their place. He's not in school. What are you hiding?"

"It was his request not to bother you with it." Bruce said.

"But why!?" Conner insisted. "We're best friends! He know's I'd do anything for him. I- I'm-"

"Perhaps, you two are not as close as you originally thought."

That hurt. That really, really hurt.

"Go home, Conner. Tim will talk to you when he's ready. Everybody deals with grief in their own way. The best thing you can do for him is give him time."

Grief?

...

Not long after that, Conner was leafing through a copy of the Daily Planet and saw that billionaire Bruce Wayne had adopted another orphan boy.

Timothy Jackson Drake. Now Timothy Drake-Wayne.

It wasn't even ten seconds after reading that article that Conner found himself in a zetta tube on his way to Gotham. That was it. Tim's parents had died. Or his father had died and his step-mother was MIA. Either way, Tim was alone. Why didn't he want Batman to tell him? Conner wanted his Robin to be able to confide in him.

The Superboy followed the sound of his bird's grieving heart to a cemetery.

Tim had flowers in his hands. Standing in front of two identical headstones. 'Jackson Drake 1976-2018, Loving Husband and Father' and 'Janet Drake 1978-2012, Beloved Wife and Mother'. But no 'Dana Winters-Drake' anywhere. So then, she was MIA (either that, or Tim just hadn't buried her near his parents). But that wasn't what mattered at the moment. What was important was Tim. Conner watched as he knelt down to place a fresh bouquet of flowers on his father's grave, before reaching an arm up to wipe his sleeve across his eyes.

Was Tim crying?

Oh my god! Conner had never seen Tim cry before!

Without eve making the conscious decision to, the demi-kryptonian found himself suddenly out of his hiding place and wrapping his arms around his Robin's lithe but muscular frame.

... And Tim leaned into the embrace.

"What are you doing here, Kon?" He muttered into the Superboy's arm.

"I heard about your folks." Answered Conner honestly. "I wanted to be here for you."

The question of 'Why didn't you tell me?' was on the tip of his tongue, but the Superboy didn't ask it. That wasn't what Tim needed to hear right now. Besides, like Batman said, everyone deals with grief differently. Tim could deal with this whatever way he needed. Conner understood that it was traumatic to louse a parent. He didn't really have parents, so he would never have to experience it for himself, but he still understood that it was traumatic for normal people. The most he could do was just be here for Tim and that was exactly what he intended to do.

"Tell me what you need." Muttered the Superboy into his Robin's dark mop of hair. "Anything you need, I'll do it for you."

"Anything...?" Tim looked at him skeptically. They were almost at the same eye-level. Cobalt blue eyes meeting crystal blue. Tim had the most beautiful eyes.

"Anything." Conner assured him. He would do anything for his Robin.

"Conner, what I've always wanted from you..." He paused, looked down at his feet. The seconds ticked by as he thought. Then, finally, "No... Its not appropriate for me to ask. You're only eight years old. Thank you, but... I don't want anything from you."

Conner did a double take. He was only eight years old. Well, yes. That was true. But that was stopping Tim from asking him for something? What could he possibly want from the demi-kryptonian that he couldn't give because he was only eight years old? Gingerly, Conner cupped the other man's face in his hands and tilted his head back up, forcing the Robin to look at him.

"Tim..." He said. "That's just a number. As far as the state is concerned, Conner Kent is twenty-four. The way I look, you'd think I was still sixteen. Just forget about my age. What do you want? I promise, nothing you ask for will change the way I think about you."

"Conner..." God! His eyes were so blue! "I... I want... I want to wait until you're eighteen. I'll tell you when you're eighteen. When you're eighteen, I'll be twenty-six. It should be alright then."

Oh god! All this time... Was Tim struggling with the same dilemma he had been?

"You feather-brained idiot."

...

A few weeks after that, Superboy died.

...


	4. Six

Tim was devastated.

His father just died, and no more than a month later, his best friend... more than a best friend... his boyfriend... died.

It came completely out of nowhere. Some new powerhouse calling himself 'the real Superboy'. Not another clone. As they later found out, he came from an alternate dimension. This 'Superboy-Prime' gave Conner the beating of his life, and ultimately... killed him.

Tim wasn't there. Tim didn't see it. Maybe if Robin had been present, he could have prevented it. He went through a lot of 'maybes' in the weeks immediately following the demi-kryptonian's passing.

'Passing'. He hated that word. It sounded so passive. So peaceful. There was nothing peaceful about the way Conner had died. It had been brutal. Savage. Vicious. Mercilessly beaten to death by his opponent. Conner did not 'pass away', he was killed. And that was fact. No soft phrasing was going to change that. It was shocking, and it was jolting, and in the space of a few short minuets, Tim's world had turned upside down.

He wasn't there. But, somehow, he knew. Before anyone else told him. Before the call went out over the JLA frequency. Before the official press statements had been made. Tim knew.

It was like the day they had first met. ...And yet not.

That day, three years ago, when he'd first met the Superboy...

Conner had stepped out of the zetta-tube looking all pissed off and huffy. Face drawn in a scowl, arms crossed over his chest. Dick told the new Robin about his personal issues with Miss Martian and the Lagoon Boy, Tim had been warned that the Superboy would most likely be in a foul mood when the Robin met him. It had nothing to do with him, Supey was just always in a bad mood after Miss M started dating LB. So, he appeared exactly how Robin was expecting him to.

But the moment the new Robin laid eyes on the man, his whole world did a funny little... tilt.

It was like an odd form of tunnel vision. He was still aware of everything else around him, but only peripherally. Everything else was focused on the demi-kryptonian who'd just stepped out of the zetta-transporter. He was the only thing Tim could see, the only thing his eyes would focus on.

Tall and muscular. Short ebony hair wind-tossed from his day spent with Superman in Metropolis. Shirt wrinkled and scuffed from whatever battle their might have had. The knees of his pants scraped and dirty. His boots caked in... who knew what. He looked a mess! But to Tim, he looked fantastic. And those eyes!

From across the room Tim's own eyes locked on that crystal-blue stare and it was the single most mesmerizing thing he'd ever seen. A light blue, like the summer sky, but with more depth of color near to pupils and an almost luminous glow. Almost as if lit by some internal light. Like some of the samples of kryptonian crystal Bruce kept in his lab. Crystal-blue eyes. And when their eyes locked, Tim was sure he felt something indistinct and ephemeral pass between them.

Tim's palms began to feel sweaty in his gloves, his stomach did little flip-flops, his mouth watered, his throat went dry, and the new Robin was suddenly aware that nobody had said anything in almost three minutes. So, he broke the silence, trying to sound as calm and cool as every bat should sound. "You must be Superboy."

It was such a stupid opening line. He probably thought Tim was an idiot now! Stating the obvious like that. He brought shame to the name of Robin! And it was so out of character for him too! He was usually a cleverer and much more reserved person. He had just been thrown off balance. That was all. He just needed a few seconds to regain his composure. Self-control.

The the Superboy answered, "Tha- ahm. That's what the computer says."

And that was true. That was what the computer said. But the zetta-transporters used body-scans as identification of whoever was traveling -arriving or leaving. Theoretically, you could fool the computer with an operative that had an identical body-type to a member of the Team or League. Superboy was a clone of Superman, but he wasn't the only clone and the other one that they knew of -Match- did have an identical body-type to Superboy's. If Match wasn't completely bat-shit insane (an offense to bats everywhere) then he could easily pose as the demi-kryptonian and infiltrate the base!

Tim was impressed. The way Dick described him, Tim was not expecting to find such intelligence in the Superboy. Knowledge, yes. Cadmus had programed him with everything short of the Library of Congress. But intelligence, that was something that couldn't be taught or programed. You either had it, or you didn't. Tim quickly decided that he liked the new Superboy very much and he could not help the smile that spread over his lips.

"That's very true. You're a lot cleverer than Nightwing lead me to believe."

...

A lot smarter than he was expecting and so much more attractive too!

Damn! It's got to be a crime to shove all that muscle into one body, then top it off with that ungodly handsome face! He was like some modern Adonis! His Superboy.

Training with him was sweet agony.

Between the training in tactics he'd received from Batman and the lessons in fighting stronger opponents from Black Canary, Tim could put his kryptonian to the floor easily. And that was exactly what made training with the man so damn difficult! Tim would have this obscenely handsome specimen pinned between his thighs and then what? Just say, 'I win. Training's over.' and go masturbate to the memory of the feel of him? Yes.

He would pin the Superboy down with a lazy cocky grin that Tim knew he should not have but still could not manage to keep off his face. Lean down low so that their noses were almost brushing and in a husky whisper ask, "Do you submit?"

And, oh god!, thank goodness for his jock. If it weren't for the hard cup meant to protect that most sensitive of organs from injury, Tim was sure the Superboy would have felt his erection. Tim wasn't really sure what the Team's policy was on sexual harassment, Dick hadn't exactly given him a handbook that covered that sort of thing. But he was pretty sure that pinning a sparring partner to the ground and rubbing your stiffy all over them was most definitely 'sexual harassment'.

"Do you have kryptonite?" The Superboy asked in response.

Tim did a quick mental inventory of his belt. Bruce had tired to get him to take a piece when he joined the Team. Just in case. It was always better to have something and not need it, than need it and not have it. But he had refused the glowing green meteorite rock and so said with some confidence, "Not on me."

And the Superboy smiled a playful smile. "Then no."

...

But really, Tim knew he shouldn't be playing with the Superboy like that.

He liked him very much. Superboy was smart and attractive and made the little Robin all kinds of hot and bothered. But... Tim knew the demi-kryptonian was also only five years old. Okay, almost six. He would be six in March which wasn't all that far away. But that didn't change the fact that he was still just a baby! Five years old! When he remembered that, Tim felt sick.

Disgusted with himself, actually.

He knew that Superboy had dated Miss Martian and that their relationship had lasted a long time. But, he also knew that their break-up had been messy. Civil. But messy. He didn't know the particulars, but considering the age discrepancy between them -forty-eight years!- Tim had his theories. The Superboy might look like a man in his late teens, only a couple years older than the little Robin himself, but he was actually just a child. A child couldn't possibly have the experience and emotional maturity to handle an adult relationship. Miss Martian probably pushed him until something broke and they split.

At least, that was Tim's working theory. It was all he could think of, working off of what little information he had to go on.

This theory was supported on day whilst showing after a mission. The sewers of Gotham were no a pretty place and Superboy, Beast Boy and Robin were all eager to get the smell off themselves.

It was by sheer force of will and his rigorous 'mind over matter' training that Tim was able to subdue his erection at seeing the Superboy wet, naked and soapy. Sheer force of will. Thank goodness for insane mentors like Bruce who insist on teaching you how to control every goddamn function of your body! Of course, Bruce probably never intended for Tim to use it to banish a boner in the communal shower.

Of course, other's did not possess this talent of his.

The Superboy for example. His deliciously alluring but frustratingly under-aged kryptonian looked to be having a similar issue to Tim. Though, he hid it with far less success. Body turned mostly away from Gar and the new Robin, face colored slightly in embarrassment. Beast Boy didn't notice. In fact, most people probably would not have noticed that the Superboy was slightly aroused. But Tim was hyper-observant. Even before he began his training with Bruce, things that eluded most people seemed glaringly obvious to him.

He did feel a little guilty that his first thought upon noticing his demi-kryptonian's condition was a stir of excitement that maybe his aroused state was because of him. Tim suddenly found it much more difficult to suppress his own desires. Of course, then Beast Boy had to start a splash fight and that helped to distract him. It also succeeded in annoying the crap out of him.

"Cut it out, Gar!" And he splashed back.

They continued slinging water and soap suds at one another until the Superboy finally snapped at them to stop. That was when the Beast Boy left, commenting how the demi-kryptonian had been irritable ever since Miss Martian began dating Lagoon Boy. That was when Tim was reminded of his theory about the Superboy's age and how it could have related to the end of his relationship with the martian girl. He was basically a child and she was basically a middle-aged woman. It was sick, and he was probably still carrying emotional scars from it. Children so young were not mentally or emotionally equipped to handle adult relationships.

Superboy's irritability was probably the lasting stress of the strain that relationship placed on him. It wasn't M'gann and La'gaan together that made him antsy, it was just M'gann.

"Its not really Miss Martian and Lagoon Boy that have you so bothered, is it?"

...

It was wrong, and Tim knew it.

He shouldn't feel the way he did about the demi-kryptonian. Superboy was only six years old and so just a child. He, on the other hand, was fourteen and quickly climbing into his adulthood. It was sick of him to want the Superboy the way that he did.

But that didn't stop Tim from putting spyware in the demi-kryptonian's bedroom at the new base. Microphones to hear whatever he was saying. Cameras to see whatever he was doing. The feeds fed directly into his personal PDA, no other member of the Team would have access to them. It was his own dirty little secret.

A member of the bat-clan probably could hack into his feeds if they really wanted to. But they'd first need a reason, and Tim was carful not to rouse any suspicions whilst setting up his equipment. He knew what he was doing was wrong (by at least two different ethical standpoints), yet he was doing it anyway.

Perhaps that was his great blunder.

Tim knew any member of the bat-clan could hack his feeds, just as he could hack any other member's feeds. But he never would have expected someone everyone thought to be dead to be able to hack his feeds.

The message appeared while he was editing his footage. Reviewing the tapes from the previous day, cutting long hours of just empty rooms and piecing together the bits of tape that actually had his Superboy in them -with special emphasis on the scenes where he was undressing or masturbating. Tim saved them to a jump drive as MP4 files and watched them on his home computer in the privacy of his bedroom.

The message appeared in a segment of tape he had just begun reviewing. The picture went all static'y just as Superboy was unzipping his pants and that in and of itself was frustrating. But the message that appeared in his kryptonian's place was even more alarming. 'I know what you're doing, and I'm sure he'd like to know too. No pervert will ever steal the Robin mantle.'

At first, Tim suspected it was Dick. Otherwise, why add in the comment about the Robin mantle? The name of 'Robin' didn't matter to Barbara and Bruce would have faced him directly instead of hacking a message into his feeds.

But after separating out the foreign signal from his own and following it back to its parent-mainframe, Tim realized it was not coming from the Batcave, or Dick's apartment in Bludhaven, or Wayne Enterprises, or Barbara's loft in the Clock Tower, or even the police station. No. The signal was tracked back to an internet cafe not far from the Finger River docs. There was no base, safe house, or equipment cache near that area, at least, not one Tim knew about. So, the hacker could not be another member of the bat-clan. That merited some investigation.

Tim had been expecting blackmail.

He had not been expecting a trap. He had also not been expecting to see the dead risen from the grave!

Jason Todd.

The one who was Robin before him. The one who had died before he ever became a member of the bat-clan, back when he was still just a crazy Batman fanboy and stalker. Died at the hands of the Joker. Beaten to death with a crowbar. His body had been interred in the Wayne family's private cemetery. Tim saw the headstone. He had seen pictures of the still fresh body from the case file. He was dead! Jason was supposed to be dead! The dead did not come back to life. How was one supposed to combat a zombie or a vengeful spirit?

He wasn't proud of it, but Tim had to admit that he panicked. When faced with a man risen from the dead and full of malice for the one who had stolen his place and title and was perverting that title with his peeping and stalking... Tim was filled with an alarming amount of terror... and he made rookie mistakes.

When he finally came to, Robin was tied to a chair in a warehouse he did not recognize. But from the looks of it, the place had been abandoned for several years. Outside he could hear the water-traffic of the Finger River, so Tim knew they couldn't have moved to far from where they had been. Maybe just a few blocks down.

The first thing Jason did upon noticing Tim was awake was smack smack him hard across the face, raising a bright red welt on his cheek. Tim glared up at him, wondering what happens next. There must have been something in that glance that the former Robin didn't like, because he smacked Tim a second time, raising an identical red mark on the other cheek.

Deciding he'd had enough of that, Tim asked, "Was there something you wanted to say? Or did you just want to smack me around like a prissy bitch on her period?"

"That's cute, coming from a sicko like you." Jason growled. "I can't believe Bruce would let you dirty the Robin name."

"Oh, please." Tim scoffed, feeling in his gloves for the tiny tools that were concealed in the fingers. Damn. Jason must have removed them while he was out. "Its not like I haven't done anything different than what Dick does with all of his girlfriends." A brief pause for thought. "Unless, its the fact that Superboy and I are both men that you take issue with. In all my research, I never would have pegged you for a homophobe, Jay."

"Don't call me that!" Snapped the former Boy Wonder. "I don't know you! We're not friends. You don't get to call me that!"

His belt was gone too. Of course Jason would know what to remove and where on his uniform everything would be. That meant that the only tools he had at his disposal were his brains and his mouth. Keep him talking and think of a plan, or else, keep him distracted and wait for Bruce, or Barbara, or Dick to find them. "What do you want, Mr. Todd? Why am I here?"

"You're here, because when I clawed and climbed my way out of that pit and made my way back to Gotham, I find that my death has not been avenged, nothing in Gotham has changed, to gangs still run the streets, the mob still owns the docs, the cops are hopeless and worst of all... I've been replaced by a fucking pervert fag!"

Charming language. Really nice.

"So that's it then? The town you grew-up in is exactly the same as its always been, Bruce didn't kill the man who killed you, and your job has been taken by someone else." Tim summarized. "Well, Gotham's always gonna be the same, so suck it up buttercup. Bruce doesn't kill and you know that. He's never gonna break that rule for any of us. He can't, otherwise he becomes just as bad as the filth he fights. As for me replacing you,-" Tim shrugged "-Batman needed a Robin. He and Nightwing were more or less estranged. I saw a hole and I filled it."

Jason just glared at him reproachfully.

"I still don't see what any of that has to do with my interest in Superboy." Continued the new Robin. "Like I said, its no different than Dick spying on Bette, Zatanna, Helena, and Babs. Or Bruce spying on Selina, Talia, Viki, or Clark. What I do in my free time and with the technology at my disposal is my business."

He would have said more, but just then, there was a noise on the roof. Like heavy metal bending and buckling under extreme pressure. The roof access door being wrenched open. No member of the bat-clan could do that. No member of the bat-clan would ever make so much noise either. That meant that it wasn't Dick, Babs, or Bruce. It also had to be someone strong. Tim knew Clark would have been a more logical deduction, but for some reason, he knew it was Superboy instead. He didn't know how he knew, but Tim was sure that it was his kryptonian coming to his rescue. It was a feeling similar to what passed between them at their first meeting. Indistinct and ephemeral.

Jason jumped at the sound, snatching up a red helmet that covered his whole head and face.

...

As happy as Tim was that it was his Superboy that came to his rescue -unnecessarily, seeing as how Bruce, Babs, and Dick showed up seconds after- he needed to know what the demi-kryptonian had heard. Super-hearing was among his abilities and Tim needed to know if his kryptonian now knew about his spying. Had he been found out? Did the Superboy now hate him? Think he was a pervert like Jason did? If he did, it didn't show in his behavior towards the new Robin.

It took Tim several weeks to actually work-up the courage to confront him, however.

The little Robin cornered his Superboy in one of the Tower's corridors. Pinned him to a wall, actually, and that felt nice. Hard kryptonian body, all muscle and heat, pressed between himself and a flat surface. Tim liked it very much. But he wasn't there to cop a feel, or get off on rubbing up against his crush. He had an objective to achieve. So he leaned in close and muttered a soft, "Come with me."

Tim lead them into an empty room and locked the door behind them. Damn it all to heck, if only Superboy was a bit older, this scenario could head in a completely different direction. A locked room, all alone, and Superboy -thus far- didn't seem to mind letting Tim push him around. But, no. That's what fantasies were for. That was not what this meeting was for.

"I appreciate your ill-conceived rescue attempt." He began, trying very hard to stay on point and not allow himself to be distracted by those luminous crystal eyes, or those strong muscular forearms. God! Tim just wished his Superboy would put those arms around him and crush him against his manly chest. "But I need to know how much you heard."

"What do you mean?" And the Superboy looked so cute. Crystal eyes getting big with confusion, lips parted slightly. Oh, Tim just wanted to stand up on his tip-toes and kiss that mouth! Would those lips be soft like a normal person's? Or hard like steel? Tim wanted to find out. He wanted to find out so badly!

But that wasn't why he had dragged the demi-kryptonian into this room. He needed to know if his Superboy now knew his dirty little secret, and if he didn't know, Tim had to phrase the question in a way that wouldn't clue him in or make him suspicious. "That guy..." Explained the little bird, "He was the Robin before me. Don't ask me how he's still alive, its a long story. But he talked a lot before we heard your clumsy entrance. I need to know how much of Batman's secrets you know now."

That's right. Make it about Batman. Distance yourself from the issue so that he won't suspect.

Of course, if he did already know, and there was no perceivable change in his behavior, then could Tim assume that he wanted the new Robin watching him. Or was that just wishful thinking? The justification of a predator? Superboy was only six years old, how much did he eve understand of what he might have heard? He might have heard everything and understood nothing. Or he might have heard everything and understood everything, and liked Tim's attention. Wanted it. Okay, that was definitely a predators justification.

"I wasn't paying attention. I still only know what I knew about Batman when Cadmus programed me. Nothing new."

"Nothing new..." Tim repeated. And he was equal parts relived and disappointed by that. Relieved because it meant his dirty little secret was safe. But disappointed because his neat little fantasy of the demi-kryptonian wanting him to watch him was proved untrue.

"Although..." Continued his Superboy, "Before I showed myself, and he still thought I was Batman, he called me 'Bruce'. Who's Bruce?"

And then Tim got an insane idea. Manipulate things so that Superboy could discover his civilian identity. That way, he and his kryptonian could become close in both their lives. Tim would have even more access to him and he wouldn't be directly breaking Bruce's gag-order of identities. He and Superboy could hang out outside of costume, at each other's homes. Oh god! Tim could see his bedroom, his real bedroom, not just his room at the base. Maybe a few cameras around the farm to, get shots of him all hot and sweaty from the work... Thank goodness for his jock, he didn't know how he would have hidden his erection without it.

"I told you when we first met that you're a lot cleverer than Nightwing made you out to be. Prove me right."

...

Sadly, Tim was disappointed in his Superboy's abilities. The demi-kryptonian was able to deduce Batman's, Nightwing's and the second Robin's identities. But that was easy stuff. One you discovered one of them, the rest fell like dominoes. Barbara and himself, on the other hand were more difficult because they were not directly connected to Bruce Wayne. Tim was disappointed that his kryptonian didn't do any further digging. Disappointed and a little frustrated.

"I expected more from you." He said in all honesty. He might be a voyeristic little predator in training, but he had standards. Brainy was his idea of sexy. Of course, sexy was also his idea of sexy. So, his Superboy had lost brainy points. He still had more than enough sexy points to make up for it. "Tim." He told him. "My name is Tim. But you didn't hear it from me. You figured it out on your own. You got that?"

"Tim..." It sounded like his Superboy was just testing the name on him tongue, seeing how it felt, tasting it. Tim would love to be tasted by his demi-kryptonian. Of course, by 'tasted' he of course meant- well, never mind about that. "So, Tim, when's your birthday?"

That was a random question. He would have expected his Superboy to ask why instead. "July. I turn fifteen in July." Then, "Listen, I already know your real name -have known for a while. But... I'd like your permission to call you by it. May I?"

It would certainly make masturbation all the sweeter if he could moan out 'Conner...' or 'Kon...' at his climax rather than 'Superboy...'.

His demi-kryptonian smiled. "Nothing would make me happier."

Hearing that made Tim happier than being able to set up more spyware all over his private home did.

...

As far as the public was concerned, the Superboy was laid to rest in the Valhala Cemetery in Metropolis, beneath a statue commissioned by Lex Luthor. A holographic memorial of the demi-kryptonian was erected in the main entrance hall of the Tower, right alongside all their other fallen comrades. But his remains, his real remains, not what was buried in Valhala Cemetery, were interred in the Kent family plot in Smallville.

The service was small. Clark said a few words. Martha Kent cried. Jonathan said far more words than Clark did. Lois was grim-faced as she stood by her husband. Tim hung back from the family. He waited until they were gone to say his goodbyes.

It wasn't fair. It had taken them both three years to get over their respective issues with the relationship and then, when they finally got together...

...This happened. It wasn't fair.

...


	5. Seven

Luthor was in his office, working late. The building maintained a full security detail round the clock regardless of business hours. His office was the entire top floor -excepting space for a receptionist's desk and the elevator, of course. One wall was taken up by a window. The window was double paneled concussion glass, able to withstand a hit from a rocket launcher. (Lex Luthor never made the same mistake twice.) The window did not open. 'Fresh air' was fed through the ventilation after passing through three separate filters.

If Tim wanted to get into the office, he could not go through the window. The ventilation system would be problematic as well.

That left distraction and misdirection.

A small forced entry alarm was tripped at the loading doc on the ground floor behind the building. The main security contingent was diverted there with just an auxiliary team left to maintain the rest of the building.

Motion was detected inside the ventilation system on the upper floors, slowly making its way towards Luthor's office. Mercy left her employer's side to investigate. It would be hours before she figured out the motion sensors had been hacked.

Tim slipped in through a concealed 'escape hatch' Luthor had meant for himself. For when he had to make a quick get away. The exit to it came out several miles from the Lex Corp tower, somewhere in the Hobb's Bay area. He never would have imagined someone using it to get into his office.

Luthor was halfway out of his chair when Tim's shadowed figure came up behind him, one hand covering his mouth so that he couldn't call for help, the other pushing him back down into his chair. "Hands where I can see them, Luthor." He growled. "No weapons. No silent alarms. I'm not here for your life, I just want a bit of technology."

All Tim could see was the back of Lex's baled head, but he felt the old man smiling against his glove as he asked, "Is this a business proposal then? My, my, Robin, what would your employer think?"

Tim deigned not to reply. Bruce didn't know he was here. No one did. But... he missed Conner so much. He would do anything to bring him back and to do that he needed something only Lex could provide. "Its 'Red Robin' now." He said. "The old Cadmus technology. What you used to create Superboy in the first place. I want it."

"Still carrying the torch, I see... Red Robin."

"Always."

...

Tim always wanted Conner, from the first moment he laid eyes on the man. But he couldn't have him because, while he may look like a man in his late teens, already reached the age of majority in some states, he was actually just a child. Only six years old.

So, he satisfied himself with just keeping Conner close. Like a friend. A best friend. A best friend that he secretly wanted to bone.

Dad and Dana were very happy to finally be meeting one of his friends from the 'youth group' he spent so much time with. That had been his cover story to Dad, to explain his long absences after school and on weekends. Jack never really questions it since he and Dana appreciated not having a teenaged son underfoot during those first early months of their marriage. That had been almost two years ago now and Dad and Dana were starting to wonder why they never actually got to meet anyone from this youth group, or ever saw pictures from their fishing trips, or ski trips, or campouts, or sailing, and so on.

So, they were overjoyed when Tim asked permission to have Conner over for dinner one evening.

Dana was excited. She cooked her famous all organic Five-Spice Tofurkey and Lettuce Wraps.

Conner took one bite, swallowed, then whispered to Tim, "Dude, what did I just put in my mouth?"

Tim gave him a patient smile for the benefit of his parents while secretly jumping for joy in his head that his demi-kryptonian wasn't a dirt-first, tree-hugging, health-nut hippy like his step mother. Tim liked Dana (most of the time), and he understood that eating healthy was important (in his chosen extracurriculars, healthy living was a must), but all of her super-healthy, vegetarian, vegan, organic, hippy granola got tired every night. But then... that's what you get when you have a physical therapist for a step-mother.

After Tim finished explaining all the wonderful benefits of a vegetarian diet to his Superboy, Conner gave an awkward and apologetic smile. "Uh, sorry, Mrs. Drake." He flushed with embarrassment and it was so adorable! "My family owns a farm where we raise cattle. Ya know, beef stake."

Dad gave a snort of amusement. "Looks like you two are natural enemies. No wonder Tim likes him so much."

"Dad!"

"Oh, Jack, stop teasing."

Conner just sat there looking confused.

...

Dinner at the Kents' was far more relaxed than dinner with his own parents.

Because Martha and Jonathan had raised the freaking Superman they already knew Tim and Conner's secrets. Their secret identities, that it. Nobody had to hide anything at the table -except for a giant throbbing crush on the demi-kryptonian sitting next to him. But why quibble over details. And it was a great compliment when Martha compared them to the World's Finest. Tim just hoped he didn't end-up like Bruce. Silently pining after his kryptonian while watching the man move on with another woman...

After dinner was when Tim found his opportunities to plant his cameras and microphones. One mic and two cameras in the bedroom, both cameras focused on the bed from two different angled. One camera but no mic in the upstairs shower-head, That one was a risk because he didn't much care for the idea of having to sift through footage of either of the elder Kents in the shower. But it was the price he'd have to pay to see his Superboy naked, wet and soapy.

A tour of the immediate property gave Tim the opportunity to hide one in the barn opposite the hayloft, angled down. So that he could watch Conner as he bailed hay. He hoped he did it shirtless. If not, he hoped it got him all sweaty. But, considering that his Superboy could lift a building without breaking a sweat, that wasn't very likely.

...

It wasn't just a physical attraction Tim felt for his Superboy. Although, yes, that was a large part of it and there was only a little shame in admitting it. Conner was a very attractive man-child.

But more than that, Conner was just adorable. Knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects, as he should be thanks to his Cadmus programming. But smart too. If a little absent-minded. Okay, very absentminded. So absent-minded that he gets Tim in trouble with Bruce sometimes when he comes to Gotham and forgets to censor his powers. Tim plays the part of the pissed-off guy friend because that's the way Conner will learn, but really, he's not all that mad.

Tim thought it was cute, actually. The way that Batman's ban on metas in his city would just slip the demi-kryptonian's mind. The Robin liked to think that it just showed how much his Superboy liked him and how excited he was to see him. It made Tim want to do nice things for Conner. More than just lend him books that he'll never read. Superboy's ex-girlfriend used to throw him huge surprise parties every year on his birthday. Maybe Tim could take-up and carry on the tradition. It might even be a nice and subtle way of confessing his feelings. Would Conner understand the significance? Tim decided it wouldn't matter whether or not he did. Just so long as he got to see his kryptonian happy.

It was as he was going over the supply list for Conner's party that Dad knocked on his door. Tim lifted his head just as he heard Dad's voice drift through the wood, "I don't see a sock, so I assume its safe to come in."

"Just a minuet!" Tim quickly closed all the tabs he had open that held any Bat or Team related information, even peripheral stuff, and shoved his utility belt under his bed. When he was sure everything incriminating was out of view, he got up to open the door.

Dad wheeled his chair in and parked it between the bed and the computer. "School work?"

"Friends stuff." Tim sat on the edge of the bed, close to Dad. It looked like he wanted to have a little heart-to-heart. They had fewer and fewer of them progressively over the years, especially after Jack's second marriage. "Conner's birthday is coming up."

"You've been spending a lot of time with that boy, haven't you." Dad observed.

Tim tried to shrug nonchalantly and look casual whilst in his head he began to freak out. There were two things he never wanted his father to know about him no matter what. One, that he was actually Robin and spent his nights, weekends and most of his summer vacations swinging from rooftops, fighting villains, getting shot at, blown up, stabbed, poisoned, and drowned. And, two, that he was gay. "We're friends."

"I didn't say you were anything else." Dad offered a gentle smile. "I just wanted to come in here and touch base. Since you're always to busy to talk anymore. I know your extracurriculars are important to you. I just... want to be kept in the loop on what's going on in your life."

Sadly, that was never going to happen since Tim could not share ninety percent of the things that happened in his life. But, he could tell Jack some things. Like, "Well, I met with my guidance councilor today and she says my GPA is perfect, but I'll need some really good letters of recommendation. My SAT scores should be arriving in the mail this week, so you'll have to watch for them incase they arrive when I'm not home. I don't know where I'm gonna go yet, but I did pick up an application for the Wayne Foundation at the financial aid office just in case I get accepted into one of my top choices. They're all pretty expensive schools. And then, of course, there's the-"

Dad held up a hand for silence. "Tim, you've got your school stuff well in hand, and I'm proud of you. But what about the rest of your life? Don't tell me that with all the time you spend with this youth group you haven't found one cute girl to moon over! I remember when I was your age, there was this fine young thing-"

"Oh, god! Dad! No!" Tim covered his ears with his hands.

"-that I fell madly in love with and she became your mother." Jack finished.

Oh. Suddenly it was a beautiful story.

"So," and here Dad cleared his throat awkwardly. "This Conner, has he got a girlfriend?"

"No." And Tim began to worry about what his father might be fishing for.

"So, you're just two guys with no girlfriends."

"Are you trying to say something, Dad?" He asked outright.

"No." Jack shook his head. "Just trying to stay up-to-date in your life. Conner seems like a nice enough boy."

"Okay, seriously, what are you trying to say." Not because Tim hadn't already figured it out, but because he didn't want to confirm any of the suspicions Dad kept alluding to.

"Just that its nice you have someone you can depend on." He offered a wan smile. "This is a very uncertain world we live in, Tim. We never know what's gonna happen to us. We lost your mother tragically and unexpectedly, I lost the use of my legs... I'm very lucky to have Dana. I know she'll never replace your mother-"

"I like her just fine."

"-but I can depend on her and she on me." Jack continued without pause. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... Its nice you have someone you can depend on in Conner. So, whatever you are to each other, its okay. I just want you to be happy."

...

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin when he stepped out of the zetta tube and saw Conner already at the Tower waiting for him. Holding what looked like a foil-wrapped pie in his hands and looking a bit like a kicked puppy. Was that pie for his birthday? Did he think no one would remember and that was the reason for his kicked puppy look. Aw... Well, Tim would show him!

"Oh! You're here." He said. "I didn't think you'd be here so early."

Tim brushed past him as he carried the two later cake Alfred had baked to the kitchen. It was just the cake, frosting didn't travel well through zetta transporters for some reason. The cake still had to be frosted and decorated. Tim was thinking black and red frosting, since those seemed to be Conner's colors. Chocolate and cherry. Or would he like strawberry better? Ooh! Cherry strawberry mix!

His Superboy followed him into the kitchen. "Tim, I'm sorry about-"

But the Robin didn't give him time to finished, shooing him out of the kitchen so that he could work. "You weren't supposed to get here so early! Nightwing told you five o' clock. Its three fifteen! Make yourself scarce!"

"But, I-" The demi-kryptonian dug his heels in. Damn, he could be as stubborn as Clark sometimes. Well, as Bruce often said, kryptonians were very hard-headed. It made sense, after all, they were hard everything else. "Tim, I'm trying to apologize to you!"

"For what?" That gave Tim a moment's pause. Then it hit him. "Oh! Breaking Batman's no metas rule." He was still on about that? That was like a week ago. Aw... but he brought Tim some of Ma's pie. That was so sweet! If he weren't only turning seven today the little Robin probably would have jumped on him and kissed him right then and there. But he didn't. Tim had resolved to wait until his Superboy was a more acceptable age. "You can make it up to me later. Now get out. Go! Go save a kitten from a tree, or whatever it is you kryptonians do to kill time."

He wanted to see where his kryptonian would go or what he would do, but Tim told himself he had to work. He only had a couple of hours to get the cake all ready. Dick said he would help with the decorations, but Tim knew the Nightwing was coming from Helena Bertinelli's place and so expected him to show up late and missing some undergarments. That meant that Tim was mostly on his own -at least until the rest of the Team began to arrive. He could put them to work. Especially if he told Gar that it would impress Rae to see him work.

Tim cut himself a slice of Ma's pie that Conner brought. Alfred was great with pastries and things, the really complicated French and Italian stuff. But when it came to good ol' fashioned American pie, nothing beat Martha Kent. Clark had even flown all over the world to test that fact. Martha Kent made the best pie on Earth.

Mm... what would it be like to eat this pie off of Conner's wash-board abs...? Tim didn't really subscribe to most food fetishes, he thought they were messy. The clean-up was disproportionate to the pleasure gained. But with Conner, and this pie... he could make an exception.

He'd just have to wait for his demi-kryptonian to grow up a bit more, first. Today the Superboy would be turning seven. That was just to young. To damn young! Sixteen would be better. When Conner turned sixteen, Tim would be twenty-four. But then, eighteen would be better. Eighteen was legal. When Conner turned eighteen, Tim would be twenty-six. God! Could Tim wait that long? He would have to. If he wanted to be with Conner, but didn't want to put an emotional strain on him, traumatize him, or force him into something he wasn't emotionally mature enough for like his relationship with M'gann forced him to. He might look like a man in his late teens, but he was still only a child.

It wasn't fair of Tim to ask him fro anything but friendship until he was properly grown-up.

Oh! But Conner looked so cute out in the courtyard when he walked out to fid his surprise party! All confused and nervous. Like he had completely forgotten his own damn creation day and was worried he'd instead forgotten someone else's birthday. So cute. Tim just wanted to cross the lawn, stretch up on his tip-toes and plant one right on his lips. Tight in front of the Team. What a way to come out, too! Ha! No. It was a lovely fantasy, but he would just have to wait. Tim was patient. Waiting was something he could do.

Even when Dick, like the Richard-bag that he was, singled him out and told the demi-kryptonian that it was all Tim's idea with Tim doing most of the work. He wasn't proud of it, but the little Robin had blushed. How embarrassing. Bat-clan did not blush!

"I just thought we should start celebrating your creation day again." He explained, knowing he must look just as self-conscious as he felt. "So, I just threw something together. Ya know, like how Miss Martian used to do for you."

...

Tim had no shortage of his demi-kryptonian's DNA.

He pulled samples from almost everywhere, almost a dozen different sources. The clothes he had died in for one. They were covered in a plethora of his beloved Superboy's blood, sweat, tears, and saliva. Hair from his pillow cases, from both his beds at the Tower and at the farm. Semen from used condoms in Conner's trashcan and the bed-sheet, both in his bedroom at the farm and at the Tower. Tim would have even raided his own room's waste can at Wayne Manor, but Alfred was to aggressive with his cleaning. They had only been together for a month. One short month, but they had filled that month with as much activity as they could. There was no DNA evidence to be found at the manor. But there was more sweat, semen and pubic hairs from his boxers...

When Tim was sure he'd gotten everything, every last shred of genetic material his lover had left behind, all carefully packing into sealed evidence bags, and meticulously labeled, the Robin -excuse me, Red Robin, he was Red Robin now- returned to his own 'cave'. It wasn't really a cave. Nothing like the Batcave of the Team's old base at Mt. Justice that they called the 'Cave'. No. It was just a lab he'd set-up in the basement level of one of the League's safe-houses. Not one of the bat-clan's safe-houses. He didn't think the others would approve. He didn't think the others would understand.

For three years, Tim waited for Conner. For three years he pinned and yearned for what he told himself he couldn't have because of his age. Oh, how wrong he had been.

But he would get his Conner back. When Clark died, he came back to life. When Jason died, he was brought back to life. It was possible. Tim knew it could be done! He just had to figure out how. He would not go near the Pit. The Lazerus Pit that Ra's and Talia had used to bring Jason back. Tim would not touch that with a hundred meter poll. Clark's resurrection was credited to the Solar Matrix at the Fortress of Solitude and his thirty year long exposure to Earth's yellow sun. Conner had only been exposed to Earth's sun for eight years before he died, there was some doubt as to whether or not that same resurrection technique would work for the demi-kryptonian.

Tim needed to find a different avenue. An alternate way to bring his Superboy back to life.

Tim wanted his Conner back.

...


	6. Eight

It wasn't working.

Tim's cloning attempts weren't working.

He had more than enough of Conner's DNA. That was not the problem. Samples from everywhere. In different mediums too. Hair. Blood. Semen. Saliva. Sweat. A lack of genetic material was not his problem.

The problem was the sequence. Conner's hybrid human-kryptonian DNA. The computer couldn't decipher it. Not all of it. It was the same problem Cadmus had run into when creating their first super-clones. The kryptonian genotype was to complicated for the current technology available to replicate. There were gaping holes i the sequence. That was why they had to mix in human DNA. To fill in the holes and complete the code. That was how they had gotten Conner. If Tim wanted to make a living viable clone, he would also have to mix in human DNA.

But then... if he did that... The clone would not be Conner.

Tim would never get his Conner back.

He punched a console, making a dent in the metal casing and splitting the rough skin of his knuckles. Tim had never handled grief and loss well.

...

His father's death threw a wrench into everything.

Tim suddenly wished he'd told Dad everything. That he was Robin, that he was gay, that he had a giant crush on his best friend who was really secretly Superboy, that he was a creepy little fuck that stalked his friends and put hidden cameras in their bedrooms. Everything. Just to have a conversation with his father again. It was a paralyzing kind of grief.

He stopped working on the Team. He stopped going to school. He even stopped patrolling Gotham.

That was what got Bruce worried.

When his parents were killed, gunned down in an ally behind a movie theater on a busy street, it filled Bruce with purpose and drive. Gave him a reason to live, to continue. Gave him his Mission. When Tim's father died he just... shut down. Stopped doing things. First the Team... then school... finally his work as Robin. Bruce had to step in and do something.

Tim went to live with him at Wayne Manor, just like Dick had after his family's death. Just like Jason had after he vandalized the batmobile. But, unlike either of them, Bruce did something different for Tim. He adopted him, all nice and legal on paper and everything. And so, Timothy Jackson Drake became Timothy Drake-Wayne. The official press release would go out after all the documents were sealed and finalized.

So, he packed up the apartment he lived in with Dad and Dana and moved into the manor.

Tim spent most of his time laying in bed. Starring at the ceiling or the wall.

Dick came in to bother him one day. Tim was laying on his side, back to the door. He heard the door open and close and assumed it was Alfred come to... do something. At any other time in his life, he never would have made an assumption without evidence. He also would have payed enough attention to know that the room was already immaculate and didn't need any attention from Alfred.

The opposite side of the bed dipped with the weight of whoever it was as they sat down. Then they sighed and Tim knew it was Dick. It was a very Dicky sigh. "How you doing, baby-bird?"

Tim wanted to snap back, 'How do you think I'm fucking doing!?' but he just didn't have the energy to. Dick was a smart man and he went through a similar experience at an even younger and more impressionable age. He knew exactly how Tim was feeling. No words were necessary.

"Supey's been asking about you." He continued.

Conner... Tim would like to curl up in the demi-kryptonian's arms. Strong and warm. He could make Tim feel safe, protected, at home. It would be nice.

But Conner was just a child. Only eight. Tim missed his birthday. He didn't get to throw his Superboy a party. An eight year old was not emotionally equipped to comprehend this kind of grief, or shoulder the responsibility of comfort. He couldn't turn to Conner. It wouldn't be fair to him. Just like his feelings weren't fair to him. He was only eight years old. If he couldn't console Tim through a tragedy, he couldn't participate in an adult relationship -especially not the kind of adult relationship Tim wanted.

"What did you tell him?"

"That you were dealing with a family thing." Dick replied in that soft obnoxious voice people always used when speaking to someone who had recently suffered a loss. Tim hated that voice. Like he was cracked glass that had to be handled with care. If they spoke to him like a normal person he would shatter. He hated it.

"Don't tell him." He said, speaking more to his pillow then to Dick. "He'll want to help and it would be unfair to put that much pressure on him."

"Don't you think that's something Supey should decide for himself?" Dick replied, voice changing from that soft comforting 'I'm handling cracked glass' voice to his almost normal cocky drawl and Tim could see his lopsided grin in his mind's eye. "And, ya know, you can't hide it forever. Even if no one tells him, when the press release goes out that you're a Wayne now, I'm sure he'll be able to put two and two together."

Tim couldn't help the ironic smile that stretched across his lips. "I have always said that he's a lot cleverer than you and Bruce give him credit for."

"Well, whatever you choose to do, I think it would be a good idea for you to get out for a little bit. Get some fresh air. You might feel better if you did."

"I haven't got a cold, Dick!" Tim snapped, sitting up to look at the man for the first time since he entered the room. "My Dad just died!"

"I know." And his voice was a low, sober, growling whisper. Yes. Dick knew. He had witnessed, not just his father, but his whole family's death. Mother, father, uncle. The uncle hadn't died, but he was rendered unable to care for little nine year old Richard. Enter Bruce Wayne. "And letting yourself waste away in this room isn't gonna bring him back."

Academically, Tim knew that was true. He just didn't have the energy to get out of bed most of the time.

"At the very least," Dick continued, "if you don't wanna go outside and smell the roses that's fine. Ivy's probably got them laced with sex-pollen anyway. But at the very least, you should pull yourself out of this bed, walk two doors down the hall and take a goddamn shower! Damn boy! You smell like something the cat dragged in and pissed on!"

Tim hit him with a pillow.

Dick ran out of the room laughing.

...

Was it a bit morbid that the first place Tim went after deciding to take Dick's advice and get out of the house was his father's grave? Maybe. It depended on your point of view.

Tim hadn't been there since the funeral. It was nice to be able to say his good-byes without all of Jack's work friends and he and Dana's couple friends patting him on the shoulder all the time, offering their condolences and empty promises that if Tim ever needed any help, he could always come to them. Tim was polite enough not to tell them that the only reason he even remembered their names was because Batman made him fingerprint all of them as a training exercise every time one of them would come to the apartment.

It was nice without all the surplus well-wishers. Graveyards were meant to be empty and silent.

Tim knelt down to place a bouquet of flowers on Jack's fresh grave. His vision swam and Tim was horrified to realize that he was crying. He hadn't cried since his mother died. He thought he had matured past that. Raising his arm, Tim wiped his sleeve across his eyes. That was when he felt someone hug him.

Strong, muscular arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back against an equally muscular chest. It was warm and comforting, like sunlight on a cool spring day, and he knew it was Conner. His Superboy. Tim didn't need to turn to see his face. He recognized those fingerless gloves, the long back form-fitting sleeves, those muscular forearms. He leaned back into the hug and had to wonder why in the world he hadn't wanted Conner to comfort him before.

Oh. Right.

"What are you doing here, Kon?" He muttered into the Superboy's arm.

"I heard about your folks." Conner answered. "I wanted to be here for you."

He wanted to be here for him. Conner wanted to be here. For Tim. Those words were like a soothing balm for his aching heart.

"Tell me what you need. Anything you need, I'll do it for you." Conner whispered in the Robin's ear.

Tim wriggled around, turning in the man's arms to look at him skeptically. They were almost on the same eye-level. Conner had the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes. "Anything...?"

"Anything." The Superboy assured him.

"Conner, what I've always wanted from you..." Tim paused, looked down at his feet. Did he really have the right to ask? Did Conner even like guys? As far as he knew, his Superboy had only ever dated women. And he was just a child. Eight years old. He might look like he was sixteen, same age as Tim, but... He wasn't. The seconds ticked by as he thought. "No... Its not appropriate for me to ask. You're only eight years old. Thank you, but... I don't want anything from you."

He expected the demi-kryptonian to sigh and pull away at that. There wasn't anything Tim wanted from him right now. Not until he was eighteen, that was ten years away. He expected Conner to leave. Instead, he cupped Tim's face with both hands and tipped his head upwards, forcing the Robin to look at him. "Tim..." He said. "That's just a number. As far as the state is concerned, Conner Kent is twenty-four. The way I look, you'd think I was still sixteen. Just forget about my age. What do you want? I promise, nothing you ask for will change the way I think about you."

Should he take the gamble?

Confess now. 'Conner, I love you and I know we're both guys and you're probably not gay, but... I love you.' Or should he stay silent? Bide his time. Wait until the Superboy was really old enough. If he confessed now, and Conner requited his feelings, it would be the single most wonderful thing Tim could possibly hear right now. The biggest comfort. The happiest thing ever since the invention of happiness. But... if Conner rejected him... Now, at this time in his life, right after his father's death... It would just destroy him. Tim couldn't take the rejection.

"Conner..." God! His eyes were so blue! "I... I want... I want to wait until you're eighteen. I'll tell you when you're eighteen. When you're eighteen, I'll be twenty-six. It should be alright then."

They stood in silence. Finally broken when Conner said, "You feather-brained idiot."

And he leaned in to kiss Tim on the lips!

Lips, and tongue, and teeth, and just... fabulous!

All this time... for the past three years, Tim had been holding back because he feared Conner was a child. Only eight years old.

That was no child kissing him.

...

The next few hours were a blur of sensual kisses and conflicting opinions.

Conner wanted to take things slow. Tim had just suffered an emotional trauma and he didn't want to make any demands or put any extra strain on him. Tim, on the other hand, was sick of waiting and taking things slow. After three years of yearning, he wanted to jump right in!

"I'm just saying," Conner explained as they sat on Tim's bed in Wayne manor, "out of the two of us, one of us is a virgin and its not me."

"That's nice." Tim replied, an evil smirk crawling onto his lips. It was really sweet what Conner was doing for him, really it was. But Tim had just lost his father and he didn't want 'nice', he wanted a rush of endorphins and serotonin to make him feel better -in other words, he wanted an orgasm, and he wanted it from Conner. "And I'm just saying, out of the two of us, one of us is about to get his face shoved in the pillows and his pants cut off and its not gonna be me!"

There then ensued a short wrestling match. Like their first spar in the training room back when Mt. Justice had still been standing. Only this time, the sexual tension wasn't tense, the subtext was overtext and Tim had absolutely no reservations about rubbing his hard-on all over Conner's body, while his hands wandered over the demi-kryptonian's abdomen, feeling the Superboy's own desire and grinning a sultry grin at it. "Do you submit?"

"I just think we should wait." Conner insisted. "I mean, your dad just died. Don't your psychology books say now is a terrible time to start a new relationship or something?"

Technically, yes, they did. Something about emotional dependency, or something like that. Truth be told, it was hard to think with all the blood rushing from his head and down between his legs. But he had been in love with Conner long before his father died. For three years he had pinned and yearned for the demi-kryptonian. Now, here he was, in Tim's bedroom after a very grow-up kiss. It was safe to say that while he might be eight years old, he was no child, he could be interested in guys, and he did like Tim. Like hell was he gonna let this opportunity pass him by. Conner was gonna be his. Conner had been his from the first moment they saw each other. The sex was just the final notary stamp on documents that had been drawn up years ago.

But whatever Tim might have said in response, or whatever Conner might have used as a rebuttal, neither got to say them. Because it was at that exact moment, probably drawn by the sounds of their roughhousing, that Dick chose to barge in on them. "What in the world is going on in- Oh!"

The Nightwing froze, seeing the demi-kryptonian pinned to the floor by his newly acquired baby brother. Shirt hiked up, exposing well toned abs. Tim's hands clutching the Superboy's belt buckle, poised to unfasten it.

Nobody made any attempt to move or alter their position. But, Tim did clear his throat. "Dick, this may not be the best way to tell you. But I just think you should know... I'm gay and Conner is my boyfriend. Could you leave us alone?"

The silence between all three of them dragged on for one... two... three beats before Nightwing said, "Hang on, I've got some really good condoms in my room." He disappeared and reappeared a few minuets later with a box in his hand. Not one of the quick night out boxes that only had three rubbers in it. Or even the usual twelve-pack they sold at every Rite Aid and CVS Pharmacy on Earth. No, this was a thirty-six economy pack -and it was half empty. But, then again, Dick was the resident man-slut of the bat-clan. "Always, always use a condom!"

As it happened, they didn't have sex that day. Conner won out and instead they just cuddled until Tim fell asleep in his arms. Warm and protected, enveloped in the demi-kryptonian's strong embrace. That was really what he wanted, and what he needed right then. Conner was more than happy to oblige.

The following morning, if anyone was surprised or confused to see the Superboy at breakfast, no one said anything. And that evening Tim was back in costume.

Bruce was so pleased, he didn't even scold the Superboy about going out on patrol with Robin. He did give them both a short lecture on gratuitous use of meta abilities within Gotham city limits. But that was about it.

...

Tim didn't feel he was quite ready to return to school just yet. To many people. All with living parents and mundane every-day life problems. He didn't feel he could deal with it. But Bruce, as Tim's legal guardian and adopted father, was required by law to make sure Tim got some schooling. He arranged for tutors to come to the manor three times a week.

It would have been nice if Tim didn't, more of then than not, ditch his tutors and zetta to Smallville to make-out with his boyfriend.

Conner had him pinned to the bed. The demi-kryptonian seeming to have a bit of trouble holding himself with one hand and trying to unfasten Tim's jeans with the other. As anyone who's ever buttoned or unbuttoned denim, its very difficult to do one handed. Tim would have helped, except his own hands were rather busy on his Superboy's pants at the moment and couldn't be bothered.

The Robin smiled in appreciation at the stiff tent of boxers that poked out from the open jeans as they slipped off Conner's hips. He pushed the other man's pants down to his knees, purring a deep sultry purr as he ran a hand over the tight cotton, searching for that slit in the fabric that would allow him to slip his hand inside and touch skin to skin.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Conner?" Ma's voice drifted through the wood. "I'm sorry to both you boys while you're... having your alone time. But Bruce just called and wanted me to remind Tim that he missed a study appointment today. Also, Dick asked me to make sure you use a condom. I hope I don't actually have to check that!"

The Superboy groaned in exasperation, body going slack in defeat, almost collapsing on top of his boyfriend. "I hate your family."

...

But, to spite distractions and interruptions -and hovering big brothers preaching about condoms- they did finally manage to consummate their feelings for one another.

And they hadn't even been planning to at the time.

Tim had a free day from his tutors and it was still several hours before he had to be back in Gotham for nightly patrol. He had gone to the farm just to hang out, that was it. No sex intended. Conner had work to do anyway. It was a purely innocent visit. Tim offered to help Conner with his chores and actually worked.

Worked so hard that he got all sweaty.

Got so hot that he had to take his shirt off.

Neither of them were quite sure how they ended up all the way up in the barn's hay-loft. It just sort of happened that way. There was a perfectly serviceable bed in Conner's room inside the perfectly comfortable farmhouse. But there was also a phone there. A phone that Bruce, or Dick, or anyone else could call. Evil phone. There was no phone in the barn.

Laying in the hay, basking in the after glow of euphoria, Tim cuddled close. Head resting on Conner's shoulder, hand splayed over his bare chest. He sighed in contentment before commenting, "Next time, we're actually planning the sex. That way the one on bottom will have a chance to get cleaned up first."

"Sorry." Conner muttered, not really caring at that moment. He had Tim and he was happy.

They were both happy.

...

Tim was touring the campus of Gotham U when it happened.

He had been texting Conner earlier that morning, planning their next rendezvous. At the farm, the Tower, or the manor. They were still debating when Tim turned his phone off to pay attention to the tour. He spent almost the entire day touring the school.

Dick came to pick him up, offering to treat the little bird to a late lunch. That was when it happened.

At first Tim didn't understand what he was feeling. It was like the first time he'd met his Superboy, but different. Something significant passing between him and... something else, something far away but important. Like a string wrapped around his heart was pulled so tight that it snapped. Broke. The other end drifting away until it finally vanished completely. When the sensation passed, Tim felt like a piece of himself had been cut out and was now missing.

He leaned against a wall, breathing hard. As if he's just run a mile in full costume carrying a heavy and uncooperative victim with him. But he'd only walked a single step. They weren't even out of the Commons yet.

Dick placed a supporting hand on his underarm, looking concerned. "You okay, baby-bird?"

Tim didn't know. He didn't understand what had just happened. All he knew was that it had something to do with Conner. Something had happened to his boyfriend. Something bad! He whipped out his phone and turned it on, speed-dialing Conner to moment the main-screen popped up. There was no answer. The phone went directly to voicemail. That meant it was either turned off, out of battery... or completely destroyed.

So, Tim pulled out his JLA comm and shoved the tiny bug in his ear. He didn't know who was on Watch duty today, he just hoped they were up-to-date on their statuses and quick with their reports. "This is Robin: B20 requesting status update on Superboy: B04."

"Robin..." Zatanna's voice breathed back over the comm channel, sounding full of pity and a heavy dollop of hesitation. "Robin, I'm so sorry. I... I don't know how to tell you this..."

...

Tim insisted on being one of the casket bearers at Superboy's public funeral.

The body inside the casket wasn't Conner. It wasn't even real. Just a mannequin made of wax and silicon, sculpted and painted to look like the Superboy. His real remains were given to the Kents for burial in their family plot. This ceremony was just for show. Something for the media vultures to pick at.

The casket was light in his hands, the handle he held putting almost no pressure on him. Tim had a feeling Clark was carrying most of the weight. He could carry the whole thing (and then some) by himself anyway. They didn't need a full six casket bearers. But they had anyway. Superman and Robin at the front two handles, Nightwing and the Flash (formerly Kid Flash) in the middle, and Black Canary and Red Tornado as the final two. The press would be guessing at the significance of their places for weeks.

Superman was the only one that seemed to make sense to any of them. They didn't know that Black Canary and Red Tornado were Superboy's guardians and mentors for the first six months of his free life before Superman finally man'd up. Or that Nightwing and Kid Flash (now the Flash) were the ones to liberate him from Cadmus on the first place. Or that Robin and the Superboy were lovers. No. The casket bearers and their positions just seemed arbitrary to them.

After the ceremony, Tim found himself sitting alone in a tree, ignoring requests for TV interviews, photos, or autographs. The other members of the League and a few of the team were giving out comments and quotes. Little blurbs about what Superboy meant to them and how much of a loss his death is to the greater good. PR stuff. Tim didn't feel like dealing with any PR stuff. So, he found a high place he could sit and brood.

Hawkman, of all people, come to perch next to him.

Tim lifted his head, expecting the older man to try and give him an inspirational speech of some sort. Something about loss and perseverance and the cycle of life, or some other such Disney-Hallmark bullshit. But he didn't. The two birds sat in silence for a long time. Maybe Hawkman just wanted to get away from the crowd same as Tim did and hoped the Robin didn't mind sharing his tree.

So long as Carter didn't bother him, Tim didn't mind.

Then the Hawkman just had to speak. "Its worse when they're your soul-mate."

Tim cast him a very unsympathetic glare. As if to ask, 'Do you want me to throw you a parade?'

"You feel it." He continued, undiscouraged by the Robin's silent hostility. Carter tapped the hawk emblem on his chest. "Right here. Like a piece of yourself is being ripped out. Every time Shayera died, I could feel it."

Tim froze. Suddenly he was hanging on the Thanagarian's every word. He and Conner... Could they have been soul-mates too? What were the chances? Seven billion people on planet Earth (give or take a couple hundred thousand), not to mention the added population of every inhabited world in the universe, and Tim and Conner happen to be incarnated on the same world, in the same country, and joined the same Team... What were the chances?

...

The ceremony in Smallville was private. Just family. Clark, Lois, Martha, Jonathan and Tim. Martha said Tim was family. She was a sweet woman.

Tim said nothing at that ceremony either. At least, nothing while the rest of the Kents were there. He waited for them to leave.

Graveyards were supposed to be empty and silent.

He knelt in front of the headstone. 'Conner Kent Beloved Son and Grandson' That was interesting. Tim expected it to read 'Brother and Son'. Had Clark finally sorted out his feelings about the boy? If he did it was to damn late! There were no dates. No date of birth, the truth would not have made sense and the it seemed wrong to put a lie on a gravestone. No date of death either. That was fine. Tim didn't mind trying to forget that awful day.

He was crying again. Damn it.

His father died and then no more than a month later, his boyfriend... his lover... his soul-mate -apparently- also had to die. Life was a motherfucking bitch!

"I'll get you back!" He informed the headstone. "I'm not letting you go. We're soul-mates, Kon. We belong together. Somehow... I'm gonna bring you back!"

...

That was almost a year ago now...

Tim had turned seventeen. He shed the mantle of just plain 'Robin', passing the title onto a rude and snobbish little brat that kept threatening to kill him. Talia's son. Tim didn't feel he was deserving of the Robin mantle. But, then again, Jason hadn't thought he was deserving of it either. Ultimately, it didn't matter.

He exchanged his domino mask for a cowl similar to Bruce's -minus the ears, of course. Black cowl, black cape. Still the red and black body suit, but instead of one belt around his waist, Tim now carried three. One around the waist and two crossed over his chest, a new emblem in the center. He had passed the Robin mantle on to someone else, so the Robin R had to go with it. He now sported the silhouette of a robin's head inside of a circle. It was his symbol. For his new handle.

Red Robin.

And Red Robin was hell-bent on only one Mission.

Like the murder of his parents had done for Bruce, his mate's death had filled Tim with a drive and a purpose. No to clean up the streets and put an end to crime and violence so that no one ever had to suffer his pain,no. Nothing so noble or selfless. In fact, Red Robin's Mission was quite selfish. He endeavored to concur death. To bring his beloved back to life. To reunite himself with his soul-mate and finally get the happy ending he felt he was owed.

All his efforts were bent on seeking this one goal.

From Lex Luthor, his mate's other 'father', Red Robin got the technology he would need to create another super-clone. From his mate's bedroom he collected all the genetic material he would need to duplicate his lover. From the League he 'borrowed' a safe-house to use as hide-out and genetics lab. From Zatanna, or Lawrence Blood, or any of the other magic-users among their allies, he planned to take knowledge of how to take a soul and bind it to a new body.

But before he could do that, he needed the body.

That was where Red Robin hit his road-block.

All his cloning attempts failed. The kryptonian genotype was to complicated to be duplicated by the technology he had available to him. He would need to mix in some more human DNA to fill in the gaps in the code. But if he did that, what came out would not be his Conner. It would not be his mate.

Did he still want to proceed?

Red Robin thought about mixing in his own DNA. But if he did that then the 'clone' he created wouldn't be a clone, but rather an offspring. His and Conner's. Truth be told, Tim did find the idea of having a child with Conner appealing. It was a nice fantasy to indulge in. But in that fantasy, Conner was also alive and well and they raised their child together. But that wasn't possible. Conner was dead. A fantasy was all it would ever be.

He would never get his Conner, his mate, back, and no child would ever fill the gaping empty hole in his heart like Conner would. Sure, raising Conner's baby would make him feel better and it would fill a little of the empty space in his heart. But not all of it. Never all of it. When Conner died, beaten to death by Superduche-Prime, a piece of Tim died with him. He would never get his Conner back.

When Batman and Robin finally found Red Robin's secret lair, Tim was bent over a petri dish -sobbing.

Cowl pushed back, mop of dark hair falling over his face, head in his hands. Batman knelt down next to Red Robin's chair and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, baby-bird." Dick said. "I think its time to come home."

"Grayson, just give it up." Robin scoffed from the doorway. "If Drake wants to wallow and self-pity and cry like a woman with a run in her stockings let him."

They both ignored the newest Robin.

"Alfred's got some hot chocolate and tiramisu up at the manor." Dick continued, pushing the Batman cowl back away from his face so they meet eye to eye. Blue eyes to blue eyes. Conner's eyes had also been blue. But so much more vibrant and luminous than Dick's -than any human's. "And I'm sure if we asked Clark, he'd be willing to send over so of Martha's pie. They've been asking about you, by the way. Said you haven't been by the house in a while."

"What's the point, Dick?" Tim asked.

"The point is, I know you lost your dad and your boyfriend and Bruce disappeared all in the same year, but there are still people here who care about you and worry after you." Dick informed him. "We don't want to see you give up on life just because of that. Bat-clan looks after our own, let us help you. You don't have to go through this alone."

...

Tim did go with Dick and Damian, but he didn't make it all the way back to the manor.

Somewhere between the Clock Tower and State Street there was a midnight bank robbery and all three bats swung in to intervene. Tim caught one escaping through the roof.

...He didn't see the second one.

It wasn't the shot that killed him. No. That just knocked him off his feet, sent him tumbling off the roof. It was the fall that killed him. Body impacting the hard pavement of the street below with a stomach churning SQUISH-CRUNCH. Spine broken, internal organs ruptured, skull cracked, fluids leaking from everywhere.

Tim wondered why he felt no pain... and why he was still conscious. He looked down at his broken body. Batman and Robin kneeling over him. The robbers getting away. Red and blue lights flashed as the GCPD finally arrived. At first Tim didn't understand how he could be laying down there yet also still standing on the roof looking down on himself. Then he got it.

"Oh."

He heard a snort behind him. "And here I used to think you were the smart one."

Tim turned around.

There, outlined in moonlight, was Conner. His demi-kryptonian. His Superboy. His mate.

They didn't have physical forms anymore. Neither of them. But their minds remembered the shapes they used to have, and so Tim thew himself into Conner's arms. They were together now. Good and permanently together.

That was all either of them ever wanted.

...

END


End file.
